The Constant
by Daniah Foxhunter
Summary: "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed this much since Madame Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." The most powerful wizard in the world, the friend that stood by him, the man who took it all away, and the woman that stole his heart.
1. Part1

Disclaimer : I do not own anything you recognize. It all belongs to J.KR.  
  
Note : I'm replacing this chapter because I wanted to dedicate this to the great Richard Harris. I just found out today that he died, and I feel as though my heart is breaking. He brought one of our most beloved characters to life, and we owe him great respect. Rest in peace, Mr. Harris, you will always be in our hearts.  
  
Part One  
  
The year is 1794. While, in Muggle England, the aftermath of the French revolution, and the Napoleonic wars are causing all sorts of economic, social, and political mishaps, the Wizarding world is as wonderful as ever. Just as magical, just as peaceful, and caught up in the brilliance of a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A clever young man from a long line of respectable wizards and witches of Devon, Albus Dumbledore. 1794 would be his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and he was Head Boy.  
  
On the carriage to the Hogsmeade station, Albus was surrounded by what appeared to him to be an endless stream of seventh- and six-year girls who came in and out of his carriage to tell him about their summer and ask about his (this was done by apparating, which was taught in the fifth year at that time). Truthfully, Albus had never been that popular, though he was fairly handsome and smart, but until he was named Head Boy, no girls had ever paid much attention to him. However, he and his best friend, Nicholas Flamel, had been doing quite a bit of research in their sixth year, and it had caught media attention. Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel had become household names, not just in England, but all over the world. Everyone wanted to know if they would be able to make the Sorcerer's Stone.  
  
This carriage ride, Albus had two permanent companions in the compartment : Nicholas, and the Head Girl, Paulettina Farrows. Paulettina was a pretty girl of moderate height, a little plump, but that was the way to be, you know. She was very fair and had deep-set eyes of chocolate brown, and very long, straight brown hair. She was quiet-spoken to those who first met her, but much more witty and clever with her close friends, and smart. For this reason, Albus quite liked her company, and the fact that she was Head Girl, instead of the other candidate, a rather obnoxious Ravenclaw. There were no romantic feelings between the two of them, though Albus sometimes fancied that Nicholas quite liked her.  
  
Nicholas was quite a character himself. Like the other two, he was studious and of a quiet disposition, and he was easily frustrated with those who were not as bright or clever as him. He had an interesting past. He was actually born in 1337, and 1352 was to be his fifth year at Hogwarts. However, he and some friends he met on holiday in Italy got a bit sloshed, and were having a bit of fun, and Nicholas ended up taking what we like to call the Draught of Living Death. He had woken up in 1792, and having not aged at all due to a spell cast on him by his parents, had to go back to Hogwarts for his fifth year, where he met a fifteen-year-old Albus Dumbledore, and they instantly became best friends.  
  
Nicholas was tall and broad-shouldered, with a handsome face, turquoise eyes, and golden-blonde hair. Girls giggled and swooned when he was around, and he was constantly lavished with luscious smiles, but he paid no attention. Normally, he had his nose buried in some book, or he was pondering over an essay he was writing, with his quill in his teeth and a fistful of his golden hair in his hand. He was endlessly dedicated to his work and not easily distracted by anyone. If Helen herself had sat in front of him while he was doing research, he would not have looked up even once.  
  
Albus was going to start swearing very strongly when another person apparated into their carriage, and then he saw that it was the lady with the food cart.  
  
All three students stood and bowed their heads. The witch smiled and bowed in return.  
  
"Oh, thank God it is you," Albus said, grinning, and taking a seat, "I was about to put a spell on to repel people from apparating in any more."  
  
"No, it is just me, would you like anything, dears?"  
  
"Some Pumpkin Pasties, please," Paulettina said, reaching into her purse and pulling out some gold, "And two Cauldron Cakes."  
  
"There you are, dearest. I must say, Paulettina, you get prettier every year. No doubt you will find yourself a fine husband," She looked meaningfully at Nicholas, who was scribbling away on a piece of parchment.  
  
"I will take some licorice wands," Albus jumped in, as Paulettina's face had suddenly flushed a very deep red, "And some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."  
  
"And you, Nicholas?" The witch turned to him.  
  
"Hmmm?" He looked up, "Oh, um...A little bit of everything, here you are," He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out some gold, which he dumped into the witch's hand. She took a bit of everything and put it next to him on the empty seat, on top of some more loose parchment and a couple of very thick spellbooks.  
  
"That will be all then? Have a nice first day back."  
  
They all stood and bowed again, and the witch disappeared.  
  
Albus was just unwrapping his package of licorice wands when someone else appeared suddenly before him. They were shortly joined by another person.  
  
"Oh, were you busy?" The first, a girl with very curly black hair and a rather wide mouth, like a frog, asked, "We will take our leave then, we certainly did not mean to interrupt."  
  
"No, we will not," The second girl, who was very tall and bony with a very pointed nose, contradicted, "We will just join you for lunch, if that does not oppose your wishes."  
  
And she shoved Nicholas' parchments aside and sat down, which scrunched them all up. Nicholas just kept on scribbling.  
  
They all stood again (it was getting a bit tiresome to Albus), except for Nicholas, who didn't pay much attention to the customs of the time.  
  
"I am Gabriella Patil," The tall bony girl said, "And this is Poppy Pomfrey."  
  
"Paulettina Farrows."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"And this is Nicholas Flamel, no doubt?" Gabriella turned her admiring eyes towards Nicholas.  
  
Nicholas grunted indistinctly in return.  
  
"Pray, what house are you in?" Albus, who saw Gabriella's highly affronted look, and wanting to keep things friendly, asked.  
  
"We are seventh-year Hufflepuffs," Gabriella pulled a small, shiny badge out of her pocket, "Prefects."  
  
"Hm," Paulettina said, apparently as uninterested as Nicholas.  
  
"Of course, you were all Prefects, so I expect it is not that impressive," Gabriella sighed, "We hear ever so much about you, in the Daily Prophet and such. All your research. I can not understand a bit myself, I was never one for Potions, but you seem to be quite brilliant. My father says he would not be at all surprised if you two became the most brilliant minds of our time."  
  
"They already are," Paulettina said in her soft voice.  
  
"Pray, what do you mean?" Gabriella asked, glancing at a few pages of Nicholas' work and then tossing them aside.  
  
"Miss Patil, who else has made the Sorcerer's Stone?"  
  
"They have not yet done it."  
  
"They will soon, no doubt. Therefore, as I said already, they already are the most brilliant minds of our time."  
  
Gabriella did not seem to like Paulettina at all, and her face showed it. Whenever Paulettina spoke, Gabriella pursed her lips and wrinkled up her nose.  
  
"Well, I suppose," Gabriella said slowly, then smiled on Albus, "So what did you do other than research this summer, Albus?"  
  
"Nothing. I was supposed to go on holiday with my family, but Nicholas and I got so wrapped up in our work that the summer was over before we even realized it, and we had to go to Diagon Alley to get our things, and now we are here..Talking to you." This last comment made his lip twitch, though not in a smile.  
  
"But you must have done something else! No trips? No parties?"  
  
"For God's sake!" Albus' voice suddenly raised itself a couple of notches, "Can you girls not think of anything to say but 'What did you do this summer, Albus?' It gets quite dull, you know!"  
  
Gabriella looked absolutely shocked.  
  
"I think I will take my leave now," She said, sniffing, "Come along, Poppy."  
  
Then Gabriella was gone.  
  
"It was nice to have met you all," Poppy said timidly, "Have a nice day. I look forward to seeing you at the feast."  
  
Albus had just begun to stand, but she inclined her head, and was gone.  
  
"Good God!" Albus exclaimed, "I think I am about to have a fit! If being Head Boy means I have to put up with them all year long, I rather think I shall reject the title. Just tell Professor Golander I don't want it any more! Give it to Nicholas! He would do well. Women are always flirting with him anyways."  
  
"But then I would have to turn in my badge too, Albus," Paulettina said, "I could never do this without you."  
  
"You could with Nicholas, though," Albus said, folding his arms across his chestand looking very cross indeed, "He would like that."  
  
Nicholas looked up, one eyebrow raised, and then returned to his scribbles.  
  
"You know, Albus, I think you might want to consider that charm you were talking about," Paulettina stated, "I think we could use some peace and quiet." 


	2. Part 2

Part 2  
  
Albus, Paulettina, and Nicholas all entered the Great Hall together, and as they did, roughly a thousand pairs of eyes turned on them and observed them carefully, a little whispers broke out. They just held their heads very high and went to their table. As they passed the Hufflepuffs, Albus saw Gabriella turn her head away, her nose very high. Albus grinned and took his seat, Nicholas on one side, Paulettina on the other.  
  
The first years were sorted, and Gryffindor got several new additions to their family. Then Professor Golander stood and said a few words, and the feast finally began. As it did, a late summer storm broke out and they all looked up at the roof to see the dark clouds rolling in, the bright claps of lightning, and hear the thunder as it rumbled about the castle.  
  
"How terrible," Paulettina said as another flash of lightning illuminated the faces of those around her, "Especially for the unfortunate people who have Herbology tomorrow."  
  
Albus nodded. Nicholas was paying no attention to anyone or anything, except his food. Albus glanced down the table. All of the Gryffindor girls were wearing red dresses, with square-cut necks and a yellow ruffle (it sounds garish, I know, but it was actually quite lovely), and with a skirt that fell to the floor. The boys all wore red trousers, white shirts, and red coats with yellow embroidery, the tails hanging to their knees, and black boots. Of course, they all wore their black robes and their black hats for the feast (an especially precarious operation for the girls fourth year and up, to pin their hats on without mussing the rest of their hair).  
  
Albus thought it was a shame that Nicholas was so preoccupied, as there was a very pretty Ravenclaw sitting opposite him at the next table, who was giving him appreciative glances, that he was completely ignoring, so absorbed was he in his roast turkey. Albus was just leaning over to elbow him in the ribs, when, as he did, he caught a glimpse of the curly-haired Hufflepuff - what was her name? Polly or something? - that had been in the carriage with Gabriella, and who had not said anything but hello and good-bye. She saw Albus looking at her and quickly averted her eyes.  
  
"Did you want something Albus?" Nicholas said.   
  
Albus realized he was very close to Nicholas, who was looking at him like he was insane, and murmured, "That Ravenclaw is looking at you."  
  
Nicholas looked around as though he did not understand what was going on, and, seeing the Ravenclaw, a girl with a delicate complexion and red hair, just smiled a little, obviously uninterested, and returned to his meal. The Ravenclaw sniffed, and turned to her friend on her left, looking very disappointed.  
  
The feast ended eventually. Albus was glad he did not have the always dull and frustrating   
task of leading the first years up to the dormitory. He touched his Head Boy badge again, as if to make sure it was still there, and then proceeded up the staircases and through the hallways, escorting Paulettina all the way.  
  
  
"I am rather tired," Albus yawned, pulling off his robes and then his coat, "I think I shall retire. Are you going to stay up and scribble away some more?"  
  
"Hmm?" Nicholas looked up, "Yes, I rather think I will. I still am trying to figure out exactly what combination pine root and monkey flower will make the potion that violet. Every time I do it, it comes out rather on the blue side, and I know it is not working."  
  
Albus yawned, "All right. Have a good rest."  
  
Nicholas turned to his desk. He had gotten special permission from Professor Golander to have it. And, as there were only six boys in the dormitory (the two of them, and four other by the names of Geoffrey, Colin, John, and Henry), it was no problem at all.   
  
Albus blew out his candle, closed his curtains, and fell asleep, glad to be back at his favorite place in the world, though he was not entirely sure he was going to enjoy the pressure of being Head Boy as much as he thought he would.  
  
  
The next day, the storm still raged. All day it was gray and rather depressing, but Albus was indoors all day, so he had a generally good day. First lesson after breakfast was Transfiguration, which was taught by Professor Hartwood, a very likable fellow, no longer in his prime, and quite the old bachelor. At least, that is what they all thought of him. He was thirty-seven, and no longer eligible for marriage, unless it was out of pity or for his money. It was well-known all around that the teachers all held small estates here and there about the country, though they lived at the school during the year.  
  
They were working with very large objects at this point in their scholastic careers. Turning tables into horses and each other into goats. Professor Hartwood liked to have a good time and encouraged them to be imaginative. So when Nicholas turned Albus into an ape, they all had a good laugh.  
  
After Transfiguration was Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Professor Grace. He could not have been any more different than Professor Hartwood, who was most of the students' favorite teacher. Professor Grace was a dark man with a dark way of speaking and whom they all thought was rather evil. He had several rather gruesome creatures as a welcome back present for them, and seemed more evil than ever. It was just a great joke, of course, because that was just Professor Grace's way, but Albus had, in his fourth year, made the observation that Professor Grace seemed more alive during storms than in any other sort of weather.  
  
After that, they all went down to lunch.  
  
"You know, Albus," Paulettina said in a factual sort of way, "I simply can not help but   
notice that a particular Hufflepuff girl seems to be keeping an eye on you."  
  
Albus looked over at the Hufflepuff table and saw Gabriella Patil smiling at him without embarrassment. Albus nodded slowly and then turned his eyes towards his plate.  
  
"She is, um, lovely," Albus murmured to Paulettina, "But I am really not interested in her. Her manner in the carriage was quite opposed to anything I would find attractive in a girl."  
  
"Oh, well, that is unfortunate," Paulettina took a bite of her potatoes.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I thought I overheard her saying your name in the hallway between classes. I think she is very pretty, and if it were not for her opposing manner, as you so eloquently put it, I think you would rather like her."  
  
"I am sure that, if I am interested, I will inform you, and rely upon you to deliver a letter to her for me, informing her of what exactly my intentions are."  
  
"I would be more than happy to," Paulettina smiled, "But she strikes me as rather shy."  
  
"Her? Shy? I think not!"   
  
"She seemed very reserved, what do you think, Nicholas?" Paulettina turned to Nicholas, who was sitting behind them, and was leaning over a spell book, reading a very long paragraph, his nose barely an inch away from the page. He was whispering quietly to himself, alternately turning from the book to the parchment in his hand, and writing furiously with his quill.  
  
"Nicholas!" Paulettina exclaimed.  
  
"What?" He looked up, very cross.  
  
"Oh, never mind, go back to your work," Paulettina sighed, and turning back to Albus, said, "I am quite at a loss as to what to do with him. I shall never get him married off at this rate."  
  
Paulettina turned to her food, and Albus saw Nicholas stop writing, and look up at Paulettina, smile a little, shake his head, and turn back to his work. 


	3. Part 3

Part 3  
  
"Can you believe him?" Albus said as he and Nicholas pushed their way down the hall, "Four essays? In two months? We just got a whole load of work from Professor Hartwood."  
  
"I am not sure about you," Nicholas replied, scratching his forehead, quill in hand, "But in my experience, most teachers do not care about what work other teachers give you."  
  
"I know, but I do think he would have a bit more consideration of us than that? I mean, honestly, Nicholas, how many of us are really going to go into the Muggle Relations department when we get out of here? Professor Green is absolutely ridiculous!"  
  
They had just emerged from their Muggle Studies class, and were quite disgruntled at the demanding workload that had been put on them. They made their way from the third floor towards the dungeons, where their Potions classes were held. It was very difficult to get to classes on time without being rude, for they had to bow and say "Good day" to every group of young ladies that they passed that were fifth year and above.  
  
"Well, stop your complaining, you have got a title to live up to, and no one likes the Head Boy to be a complainer," Nicholas smirked, "And I know you will live up to it admirably. You have never missed an assignment since we have been here."  
  
"Since before you got here," Albus returned as they strode down the steps towards the classroom door, "I have never missed an assignment in my life!"  
  
"Well there you are, you can not afford to tarnish that perfect record now, can you?"  
  
They passed through the door and finished their conversation. Potions was their absolute favorite class (you can imagine why), but the atmosphere of the classroom was strictly studious. They took their seats and pulled out their materials, waiting silently with the rest of their classmates for Professor Finch.  
  
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," He said as he entered, stopping in the doorway.  
  
They all stood and inclined their heads. He did the same, and they all resumed their seats.  
  
"Today," Professor Finch made his way to his desk, "Is your first Potions lesson of your seventh year, and will be spent taking notes."  
  
They all reached for their quills.  
  
"It will take us nearly two months to do this, however, it must be done. The potion we are making is a powerful one. One that will bring you glory, or despair, make you ecstatic or break your heart. Veritaserum."  
  
Nicholas and Albus exchanged excited looks. Veritaserum, the truth potion. They had been looking forward to it for a very long time.  
  
"All right class, pull out your parchment and your quills, and let us set to work."  
  
Veritaserum was a very complex potion, and large amounts of dozens of ingredients went to make a very small amount. This was because the ingredients actually made a sort of thick paste, and one had to squeeze that paste and catch whatever ran off : Veritaserum. However, Albus and Nicholas were up to any challenge that was presented to them. They had already worked out how much of anything was needed before Professor Finch told them. Their minds worked in such brilliant ways that was awe-inspiring and frightening.  
  
  
"Did that make you feel better?" Nicholas, who's ear and sideburns now had ink stains on them from his quill, "Think you can tackle Green's essays now?"  
  
"Yes," Albus said, "Come on, time for luncheon."  
  
"Oh yes, so you can get ogled at," Nicholas put on a high voice, "By Gabriella Patil."  
  
He fluttered his blonde eyelashes and pursed his lips.  
  
"I can assure you that Gabriella Patil is the last thing that is on my mind, Nicholas," Albus said, frowning thoughtfully, "The absolute last thing."  
  
"I am as sure of it as you," Nicholas returned to his normal voice, "That explains why you spend at least half of every meal looking at the Hufflepuff table."  
  
"Well they are right there in front of me, what do you suggest?"  
  
"Sit on the other side of the table."  
  
Albus looked daggers at his friend, and they swept into the Great Hall, where Albus spent his luncheon poking at his lamb and trying not to look up at the imploring eyes of Gabriella Patil. Nicholas had gone back to his scribbling, stopping occassionally to take a drink or get a bite of meat. 


	4. Part 4

Part 4  
  
"His person is more charming than his personality," Gabriella said, lounging on her bed, twirling one long strand of hair that had come loose from her bun around a long, bony finger, "But that can be amended, do you not agree?"  
  
Poppy just smiled at Gabriella's reflection in the mirror of their vanity, applying a bit of powder to her nose.  
  
"You must admit that you think he is at least good-looking," Gabriella sat up.  
  
"I think," Poppy said slowly, "That Albus Dumbledore is brilliant, witty, clever, and honest. And I am very pleased that you have found yourself such an...Affable young man. Have you received a letter from him yet?"  
  
"No," Gabriella looked dissatisfied, then brightened, adding, "But it can be expected any day, can it not? You have seen the looks he has been bestowing so often on me at meals, and how he broods and becomes sulky when another girl catches his eye. I rather like him when he sulks like that. The way he frowns so thoughtfully," Gabriella smiled to herself, and went to the window, gazing out over the grounds.  
  
Poppy, again, did not reply. Gabriella got into this attitude a lot, dreaming and wondering about when she would receive that letter from that special young man, whoever he was at the time. Poppy never revealed her feelings to anyone, not even Gabriella. Gabriella was too self-centered to care, so Poppy remained silent. It was better that way, for if Gabriella knew, she would throw a fit for days...  
  
"Dearest, why do you apply so much powder?" Gabriella asked, leaning over Poppy's shoulder.  
  
"You know perfectly well," Poppy replied, though she immediately dropped the sponge back into the dish.  
  
"To hide your freckles, of course," Gabriella turned Poppy's face towards her, "Though   
you have only seven or eight, I would say. And I quite despise you for that. You are, without a doubt, the loveliest girl in Hogwarts - "  
  
"Except for Paulettina Farrows," Poppy interrupted as her cheeks flushed.  
  
"Well, at least in Hufflepuff house then," Gabriella wrinkled her nose, "You have your dark curls, and your pale skin, and you are tall and stunning and modest. You are everything any wizard could want out of a wife."  
  
"Thank you, Gabriella," Poppy looked at her slender, white hands.  
  
"And that is why I hate you," Gabriella turned away, and went back to lounging on the bed, "Because you are stunning and I am plain. Plain as a brown goose. I have dull brown hair and dull brown eyes and I am quite browned from spending too much time out boating this summer, where as you are still as fair as ever."  
  
"If you took your parasol - "  
  
"It makes no difference. I hate holding the thing, and as the boat is only big enough for myself and a young man, I can not bring along one of the child servants to hold it for me, unless they were to row in a boat next to me and that is quite an atrocious idea, is it not?"  
  
Poppy nodded, and caught up some unruly curls with a silver comb.  
  
"But you do not think he is good-looking?!" Gabriella suddenly returned to their other conversation, "With those eyes, that hair! The way in which he carries himself, it is simply...Handsome!"  
  
Poppy stood and smoothed her gray dress, "I do not wish to insult your taste in any way, for I have already made clear my great admiration for Mister Dumbledore, so take no offense, I beg you, dear, Gabriella. However, I do not find him very good-looking, for all his sulking and brooding that you find so charming. He is too tall, too gangly, and I especially do not like the way that his ears stick, or how extremely long his nose is."  
  
Without another word, Poppy left the room, leaving Gabriella quite astonished.  
  
  
The letter did not come, as the person who was supposedly sending it had no intention of doing so at any point during their life, and Gabriella was deeply distraught. She quickly turned to Poppy, who offered as much consolation as she felt proper, considering her rather rash outburst on the potential sender's physical flaws. Gabriella was stubborn, and still insisted on discussing with the other girls how handsome Albus was, but she began to see Poppy's view of things. Soon, Herbology and Muggle Studies with the Gryffindors became loathed lessons. If she was at the same table as Albus, Gabriella would not look at his face, for she would either stare at his nose or his ears or his freckles, which she was beginning to notice, were not only many, but obtrusive. They hid what would have been smooth, rosy tan skin, and to Gabriella, this was unacceptable, as though someone had smeared grease over Monet's greatest works.  
  
So, if she was working at the same table as Albus, she would direct her copious conversation at Nicholas. Nicholas, who was not inclined to converse with anyone but Albus, Paulettina, or the professors, proved an ill-chosen candidate for small talk as well. The only other people nearby on these occasions were Paulettina, who Gabriella did not care to talk to after their encounter of the carriage ride, and Poppy, who was silent. If she was spoken to at all, Poppy would flush very deeply and attempt to bury herself in some plant, and then have to extract herself in the most tedious way, as her curls always got caught and tangled, no matter how smooth they had been that morning when she put them up.  
  
This was all very frustrating to Gabriella, who was aiming to please her parents, first and foremost. She was their only daughter and they wanted to see her married to someone respectable and, more importantly, rich. Second, she was aiming to please herself, and set out in her seventh year to find herself a rich and handsome match. It was turning out more difficult than she had planned on. Certainly, she, who was beautiful (she thought), rich, and from a well-respected pureblood family, would have no trouble finding a handsome young bachelor with modest prospects and a large fortune in Gringott's? Honestly, almost everyone at Hogwarts was rich and handsome, so to come and find herself at a loss, well, you can imagine how much it would hurt her. It would hurt any young woman.  
  
  
"He is so terribly frustrating!" Gabriella exclaimed, "I have no idea what sort of mind game he is playing with me. He does not speak to me, does not look me in the eye, he hardly bows to me when we pass in the hallway, he avoids me at all other costs, and after dinner last night he would even come to fill out my book!"  
  
Gabriella pouted and sat heavily down on her bed. Poppy, who was pulling on her night   
cap, could not help but think that Albus Dumbledore's avoidance of her friend was for a very obvious reason, but Gabriella would not listen to anything she did not wish to hear, so it was pointless for Poppy to try and explain.  
  
"It is a great puzzle," Poppy said instead as she sat down on her bed, "But I think that, if you give it time, he will be able to sort out his intentions."  
  
Gabriella was easily pleased, Poppy knew, and she showed it.  
  
"Of course!" Gabriella exclaimed, "You are brilliant, dearest! He must be terribly confused right now. No doubt that his parents have someone in mind, but he has not found them to be correct for him, probably too dull or ignorant to be the wife of a great mind such as he. He simply has not told his parents yet, for fear of disappointing them, but when he does and they realize what a mistake they made, then he can tell them of his long-hidden affections for myself!"  
  
With that, Gabriella hugged Poppy, blew out the candle, and went to sleep. Poppy did not go to sleep, but sat by the window and looked out over the grounds, dark and lifeless in the night, the dew on the grass reflecting the starlight. She felt nothing but contempt towards Gabriella. Albus Dumbledore was a good, honest young man. Surely he would not be tempted by Gabriella, for all her money (Gabriella was to inherit a good deal from her parents when she was married), and all her open advances on him. Poppy sighed, and, seeing the late hour, went to bed. 


	5. Part 5

Part 5  
  
Part of Albus' concerns were, indeed, the wife that his parents had selected for him. Her name was Dominique Stairfawn. She was the absolute most beautiful girl Albus had ever seen (when he met her), with pale skin, deep blue eyes, an hourglass figure and long blonde hair. Her mother was French, and had inherited a great fortune, and her father was a well-respected Englishman of good business. They were a Wizarding family, of course. However, on the long walk that Albus and Dominique had taken around her father's estate, Albus had discovered that Miss Stairfawn could never hold his affections. She was illiterate, ignorant, arrogant, haughty, dumb, dull-witted, and spoiled.  
  
He had not shared this with his parents, yet, for he knew it would upset them. However, he had to tell them soon, for they had practically set the date for the wedding, though Albus had not yet proposed. They, of course, would not marry until he was twenty-two, at least, and had established himself in the world. However, his parents were eager to see him distinguished, rich, and with a beautiful wife. Her parents were eager to get rid of her, for, as afore mentioned, she was spoiled, and when she did not get what she wanted (a rare occurrence), she could become quite the little four-year-old.  
  
This was weighing heavily on Albus' mind, as well as all the pressure his professors were putting on him. Every night he and Nicholas were seen, unfailingly, at the desks which Albus had requested in the separate room which would have been used as his quarters, had he not refused. They were surrounded by rolls of parchment and thick books, bottles of ink and dozens of spare and used quills on hand. They retired at around two in the morning, and woke just on time to grab a bite for breakfast and make it to their first lesson.  
  
About three months into their seventh year, Albus began hearing rumors around school that linked himself to Gabriella Patil. They were of love and betrayal and lies. Finally, he heard the whole story. Supposedly, he was supposed to court Gabriella, but was not because his affections lay elsewhere, but no one knew about Dominique except Nicholas. The only other secret he learned was that he loved someone else in the Hufflepuff house. Albus quickly put a stop to these rumors, though they bothered him greatly. He had no doubt that Gabriella Patil had been spreading them.  
  
"What should I do about it, Nicholas?" Albus asked one night, as they worked in their study.  
  
"Do about what?" Nicholas muttered, obviously not paying attention, dipping his quill into an ink well.  
  
Albus set his own quill down, and stood, stretching out his arm.  
  
"Gabriella Patil," The name left a foul taste on his lips, "You have heard the rumors she has been spreading, right?"  
  
"Yes, I have," Nicholas dipped the quill again and continued writing, "About how you had promised your love unfailingly to her, and then betrayed her, and you are actually in love with her closest friend...What is her name? Pansy?"  
  
"Something like that, I really can not recall."  
  
"And so she has been disgraced by your indecent actions."  
  
"Yes, those would be the rumors. I know she must be spreading them, for she seems quite the type of girl to do it."  
  
"Make sure that your accusations are not wrongly placed, Albus," Nicholas, who still had not turned around from his work, said, "But, if you have no doubt that it is Gabriella Patil, by all means, send her a letter and talk to her about it. Tell her that you dislike the attention, that you dislike the gossip, and that, above all, you dislike her."  
  
Albus said nothing, only seemed to be considering what Nicholas had said. Then, he strode over to Nicholas' desk, and peered over his shoulder.  
  
"What are you writing?"  
  
Nicholas gave a violent start and turned around, blocking the pages with his hand.  
  
"Oh, come now, Nicholas, if it is more research, I should see it," Albus said, "What is it?"  
  
"All my latest research is over there," Nicholas pointed to a table on which several neat stacks of notes were set, "This is something else."  
  
A look of delight spread over Albus' face, and he began trying to snatch it from behind Nicholas' back, "What is it? A love letter perhaps? A love letter to a girl professing your everlasting adoration to her?"  
  
"Albus - " Nicholas said in a warning tone.  
  
"Your endless yearning?"  
  
"Albus!"  
  
"Your undying devotion?"  
  
"Albus!" Nicholas practically yelled, "No! It is simply a personal matter! Now please, leave me be!"  
  
  
On Saturday morning, there was a knock on the seventh-year girls' dormitory in Hufflepuff house. One of the girls rose and answered it. It was a house elf with a letter for Gabriella. The girl thanked the house elf, and then closed the door.   
  
"Gabriella!" She shrieked, "Gabriella!"  
  
"What?" Said Gabriella from the vanity.  
  
"You've got a letter!"  
  
In an instant, Gabriella had leapt up and wrenched the letter out of the girl's hand, while the other girls watched nervously, looking at each other excitedly.   
  
Gabriella opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of parchment.  
  
Miss Patil,  
  
I do not wish that this letter should cause any more rumors than our apparent connections already have. However, I fear that is unavoidable, though I would like to state my purposes. I simply would like to inquire if you would honor me with your company, this afternoon after luncheon, for a walk on the grounds. Please send an answer immediately, so I might know whether or not to wait for you in the entrance hall.  
  
Sincerely,  
Signed Albus Dumbledore  
  
Gabriella looked over the letter four more times. No brash confession of love? No heartfelt passages of his affections? Surely there must be something amiss! Gabriella grasped her skirt, looking very pained indeed.  
  
"What is it?" A girl asked.  
  
"I can not speak of it," Gabriella folded the note and tucked it away, "It is a deep personal matter."  
  
"Does he want to court you?"  
  
"I can not speak of it!" Gabriella exclaimed.  
  
  
This drama did not help the situation. Soon, more rumors were flying about the castle, this time about how Albus Dumbledore had broken Gabriella Patil's heart and such. There was, of course, nothing of the like, Gabriella was merely suffering from severe disappointment. However, she quickly redeemed herself with the idea that he did not want to confess his love in something so impersonal as a small note. Indeed, that would be quite discorteous! No, he wanted to tell her in person, so that she might be able to see the love in his eyes.  
  
Gabriella quickly wrote a note accepting the invitation, and sent it off. Then, she busied herself with changing out of her blue dress into her gray dress, which she felt was most flattering. Then she made Poppy do her hair in such a way, and she powdered her nose rather heavily out of nerves. They were almost late for luncheon, but made it on time, entering the Great Hall to a flurry of whispers and discreet smiles. Gabriella sat down gracefully, carefully out of view of Albus Dumbledore, and quickly only picked at her meal.  
  
  
"Miss Patil."  
  
Gabriella whirled around. She had been waiting nervously in the entrance hall for fifteen minutes, having left luncheon early in order to make a quick run to the powder room to check herself once more.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore," She returned.  
  
They bowed slightly to each other.  
  
"I will get our cloaks," He said, when he saw Gabriella moving towards the coat room.  
  
When he returned, he helped her into her dark blue cloak before putting on his own black one. She could not but think how handsome he looked in his tan trousers and jacket.  
  
"Shall we?" He held the door open.   
  
Gabriella passed through it, smiling at him. He managed to keep his face pleasant, but thought that she was the most atrocious girl at this school. Not only was she nosy, annoying, and jealous, she did not know how to flatter herself. The gray dress she was wearing made her look dull and lacking liveliness, and she had put to much powder on her face, making her look pale and sickly. Why had she chosen to wear gray? He wondered, The Hufflepuffs wear gray on school days! All together, she was not very charming.  
  
"What is this matter of importance that you speak so urgently of in your letter?" Gabriella asked when they had gotten all the way down the steps to the grounds. Albus offered his arm, and she gladly took it.  
  
"You may know," He said slowly, "Of certain rumors that have been circulating the castle for some time now."  
  
"I am sorry, my dear Mister Dumbledore, but I have no idea what you are talking about."  
  
"Forgive my imprudence, but I am afraid you do," Albus looked at her piercingly, "Rumors that we have been courting and that I have dishonored you."  
  
"No!" Gabriella gasped, "I can not believe such a thing? Who would want to spread such tales about us? The two most unlikely figures in this school to ever be connected to each other, in any way!"  
  
"Is it so unlikely? You, the daughter of a respectable family, and I, the son of the same sort of family, both rich, both looking to marry someone when they graduate. I do not think that the students of this school would find it so unlikely. You know how people are. They like gossip and romance."  
  
"Yes, but that is just socializing. Everyone gossips, and everyone is nosy in everyone else's business."  
  
"Not everyone," Albus said, "I am not. My dearest friends are not. And, quite frankly, I do not see any reason for these rumors to continue. You may enjoy being society's favorite piece of gossip, I find it to be dishonorable and I think that anyone that engages in such talk lacks true class."  
  
"I quite agree with you!" Gabriella looked at him eagerly.  
  
"I am not fooled by you," He continued coldly, "I know that you had it in your mind for quite some time that you were the object of my affections. I am here to tell you that I have never held you in any affection other than that of a mere acquaintance. I have no plans in my future that include you, so I wish you to stop the spread of these ridiculous notions of yours, so that we both might come out of this with our reputations intact."  
  
Gabriella was stunned. Though his voice was calm, his manner polite, such a speech was not expected. They walked in silence for some time.  
  
"Allow me to escort you back to the castle," Albus said finally.  
  
They returned silently to the castle, bowed to each other, and returned to their common rooms. Gabriella walked heavily, angered, disgusted, shocked. Albus walked lightly, happy, and with a great feeling of satisfaction. 


	6. Part 6

Part 6  
  
"Albus, that Hufflepuff was looking at you again," Paulettina whispered.  
  
"What are you talking about, Paulettina?" He sighed.  
  
"She was!"   
  
"Paulettina, I'm in no mood for that right now, and you know that. Now please, leave me be."  
  
"I don't know how you simply can not see her," Paulettina sniffed, "Honestly, she is very handsome, and you just completely ignore her."  
  
"Because she spreads lies to help her own reputation and ruin mine. Why would I want to spend any more time with her than I already have?"  
  
"Have you spent time with her?" Paulettina looked amazed, "And you think that she has been spreading the rumors? I thought she was too kind for that, she always looked it. And when did you spend time with her?"  
  
"Saturday last, remember? I told you all of this, Paulettina."  
  
"Oh, Albus, you would not be so droll as to think-!" Paulettina began, but they walked into their classroom and she did not get to finish her sentence.  
  
They sat down at their usual desks and began taking notes on a series of curses that were often used in duels. Albus had never done much dueling, however, he felt that he should look into that, as young men of the time got into them quite often over defending honor and pride and such. They were partnered up to try them on each other. Nicholas was paired with Geoffrey, and Albus was paired with a Slytherin named Jackson. Jackson was a blundering fool who meant well, but, well, was a blundering fool. Albus had a very bad feeling about being paired with him, but decided   
to make the best of it.  
  
It was not long before disaster struck.  
  
"Pantalion!" Jackson cried, pointing his wand at Albus.  
  
Albus' reflexes were fast enough for him to block the curse (which was one that would shatter one's bones to dust, not one that they were studying), but it still hit him very hard. He flew backwards about twelve feet and landed very hard on the ground.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" Professor James cried, "Mister Dumbledore!"  
  
Albus stood up slowly, staggering a little. He put his hand to his head and felt a very large welt, accompanied by a burn, above his right eye.  
  
"Oh dear!" Professor James exclaimed shrilly, "You must go to the infirmary immediately   
and receive medical attention! Do you require an escort?"  
  
"No, I am quite fine, thank you," Albus said, "If Mister Flamel would be so kind as to gather my things for me and return them to the common room - or better yet, simply take them to our next lesson, I will join you all shortly."  
  
He bowed, and left.  
  
As soon as he was out of the door he began swearing mightily, for the pain above his eye was intense, and he couldn't correctly see because of it. He swore at Jackson for being an idiot, and at himself for not blocking the curse, and at the wound for hurting so much. When he reached the infirmary, he was slightly out of breath and sweating a little.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" The nurse, Madame Corlow, cried, "Come in! What has happened? Oh dear...Is Professor James teaching you the dueling curses?"  
  
"Yes," Albus said, wincing as Madame Corlow pulled his hand away and observed the wound, "And I was unfortunately partnered with - ow - Jackson Dalaf."  
  
"Very unfortunate," Madame Corlow clucked, "Well, I have another patient, a very bad case indeed, that I must deal with. However, I shall have my assistant attend to you."  
  
"Thank you," Albus said.  
  
Madame Corlow bustled off to a moaning mass of bandages in the corner of the room. Albus heard her say something to someone else, but did not hear their reply. The wound was throbbing with his heartbeat, so their reply was not the first thing on his mind.  
  
"Oh, my," A female voice said, "Let me see. A paste of snail, rosewood, and wilted spinach in butter should do the trick for this one. I will be back in a moment, for now, drink this."  
  
Albus felt the rim of a bottle put to his lips, and he gulped. The pain subsided slightly, but he still couldn't see very well, not that he had his eyes open, for when he did, everything spun horribly.  
  
"I must tell you, this will sting a bit, but do not flinch or I might hurt you more."  
  
He felt a gentle pressure applied to his shoulders, and he sat slowly down on something hard. The paste did not sting at all, only felt very refreshing, for whoever it was was very gentle and she applied the paste to the wound. It was cold and felt very nice.  
  
"Now you must lay down for a quarter of an hour, and then you shall be fit to leave," She said, "Here, let me escort you."  
  
"I can do fine on my own, thank you," Albus replied, but not unkindly.  
  
He stood, and immediately ran into something. He felt her hands very gently on his elbow and back, and they directed him towards a bed, and he lay down.  
  
After a few minutes, he felt the wound shrinking, and the pain disappeared completely. Albus opened both eyes and looked around. Madame Corlow was attending the patient at the other end of the row of beds, and her assistant was nowhere to be seen. Albus was just about to leave when the door to Madame Corlow's office opened, and a girl came out.  
  
"You can not leave yet!" She cried, "It has not completely healed. Just a few more minutes and then you can go back to your lessons."  
  
As she came closer, Albus recognized her as Gabriella Patil's friend. The dark-haired one he always saw with her. As he lay back again, he looked at her more closely. She was very handsome, though not as pretty and delicate as Paulettina, and Albus did not hesitate in smiling, as he always did when he thought a girl was good-looking. This girl was tall, her body nicely curved, her skin pale, and her face had very pretty features. Her mouth was rather wide, but her eyes were a very dark gray and Albus liked that. Her very curly black hair was pulled back, though a few sections had fallen loose. She looked sensible, clever, honest, and modest, and Albus liked her very much already for that.  
  
"You must forgive me," He said, "But I am quite a fool and have forgotten your name, though I am sure I have made your acquaintance before."  
  
"Yes, you have, and I fear you will not want anything to do with me for it," She looked down, giving her the benefit of showing off her thick, long lashes, though she did not know it, "My dearest friend is Gabriella Patil."  
  
"Yes," Albus replied, "But I can not judge you by the company you keep. Your name, I pray?"  
  
"Poppy Pomfrey," She said, her eyes still focused on the ground.  
  
"Yes, of course!" Albus cried, making Poppy jump slightly, "Miss Pomfrey! Your name came up in a conversation once, and I, being rather dumb, could not remember it. But now, that is all settled, for I am more than delighted to make your acquaintance again!"  
  
Poppy smiled slightly, though her cheeks became rather pink.  
  
"I am afraid I do not have a lasting impression upon many people. I am too quiet for   
anyone to notice me, and Gabriella can keep the attention of a room for hours."  
  
"I have been subject to her, ahem, charms, and I find her insufferable," Albus said bluntly, "Please excuse me for being so forward, but I do not hold Miss Patil in the highest regard."  
  
"Oh, do not think badly of her!" Poppy exclaimed, her eyes wide, "She did not spread those lies, I can assure you of that, for I would know better than anyone else in the school! Gabriella - I mean, Miss Patil, had become increasingly fond of you over the summer, and she was mistaken in thinking you held her in the same regard. Obviously, that was a great error in her judgment, but the rumors were spread by the girls in our dormitory, who are quite prone to that sort of talk."  
  
"Then she as good as spread the rumors," Albus crossed his arms over his chest, "You have been living with those girls for the past six years, if she wished to keep her affections private, she should have been more discreet with her actions."  
  
Poppy did not reply to this, only looked at her hands, which were folded in front of her. Albus immediately felt very sorry for what he had just said.  
  
"I am sorry," He said, "I often speak out when I should hold my tongue."  
  
"It is quite all right," She returned softly, "I do not mind."  
  
"It is odd," Albus continued, "That you should be so modest and your friends so effected."  
  
Poppy was deeply humiliated. There was no one around to hear, and that a young man she hardly knew was speaking to her in such a way about her dearest friends was unacceptable.  
  
"I think your wound is healed," Poppy strode forward. She leaned his head back, and observed his forehead under the light, and was pleased to see that, indeed, the wound was gone.  
  
"If it bothers you at all," She said, letting go of him, "Then come back down here, and I will give you a potion to subdue the pain. Now, if you will excuse me, Mister Dumbledore, I must go, for I have to attend to some business."  
  
"I am afraid I have found your disfavor!" Albus said, sitting up, "You dislike me now for speaking out so harshly against your friends."  
  
"I think nothing of the sort," Poppy replied shortly.  
  
"I can not deny my own true opinions."  
  
"That is unfortunate, for it is our own true opinions that cause mayhem in society."  
  
"You hold me in contempt," Albus stood, "But you will not own it."  
  
Poppy turned and looked at him, her eyes sparkling a little, "Yes I will. I find no joy in a young man who insults those I hold closest to my heart. It would be as if I insulted Mister Flamel and Miss Farrows to your face. Now if you will excuse me, Mister Dumbledore, I have business."  
  
"You will not rid of me that easily, Miss Pomfrey," Albus grinned widely.  
  
"Good day, Mister Dumbledore!"   
  
She bowed and left.  
  
  
"What took you so long?" Nicholas asked as Albus took his seat next to him.  
  
"It took awhile for the wound to heal," Albus replied, "But it is quite all right now."  
  
"And you were not flirting at all with Madame Corlow's pretty assistant, of course," Nicholas smirked.  
  
"You are correct, sir," Albus said humbly, "For she holds me in the highest contempt and lowest regard, for I spoke out harshly against her friends."  
  
Nicholas shook his head, "You must learn to hold your tongue, Albus, or it will get you   
into trouble."  
  
"Misters Flamel and Dumbledore!" Professor Green barked, "Do you have something you wish to share with all of us?"  
  
They shook their heads.  
  
"Then keep quiet!"  
  
"Yes, sir," They mumbled, picking up their quills.  
  
  
"You look bothered," Gabriella said.  
  
"I am," Poppy replied hotly.  
  
"What happened? It is not like you to be so emotional, dearest."  
  
"You were right about Albus Dumbledore!" Poppy said, "That boy is rude, immodest, and selfish!"  
  
"Pray tell, what did he do?"  
  
"He insulted all of my dearest friends, as well as my judgment. He is brash and...Ohhhh...He just infuriates me!"  
  
Gabriella soothed Poppy, and when she was calm, put her to bed. Then, Gabriella laid down on her own bed, smiling with satisfaction. 


	7. Part 7

Part 7  
  
Unfortunately for Poppy, Albus Dumbledore was not so easy to get rid of as she thought, and as he claimed.  
  
"I think you highly embarrassed her," Paulettina said at dinner, "To speak so openly in such a private setting was a breach in protocol."  
  
"It was the infirmary, and she was attending me!" Albus exclaimed, spearing his beans, "It was not a private rendezvous or a romantic meeting between secret lovers, or anything anyone makes it out to be. Jackson Dalaf practically blew my head open and she was healing the wound!"  
  
"Even so, you should not have discussed such things with her," Paulettina's voice was severe, as it always was when she lectured Albus or Nicholas, "I think you should apologize to her."  
  
"Apologize!" Albus cried, his eyes wide, "Why?"  
  
"It is the proper thing to do," Paulettina returned, "And as a gentleman and Head Boy, you have no right to be indecent."  
  
Albus looked at Paulettina with loathing and pleading both in his eyes. Paulettina looked straight back at him without blinking.  
  
"Fine," Albus sighed, and began slicing his meat.  
  
  
On Saturday evenings, the Great Hall was turned into a ballroom, for, at that time, it was only proper to have entertainment after dinner. During the week, that was not possible, as the students all had homework, but on Saturday, there was a quintet to play music and they all went down to play cards, chat, and dance. These nights were greatly enjoyed by all the students, as well as the faculty, for it was a chance for them all to let go. The girls dressed in their finest and fought over the vanities and mirrors to check their hair dozens of times over, the younger ones looking forward to the Butterbeer and sweets that were provided, the elder ones hoping and praying that the boy they fancied would write his name in her book. The boys all came down in packs, usually by house and year, the younger ones...Looking forward to the Butterbeer and sweets that were provided, the elder ones trying to work up the nerve to write his name in the book of whatever girl he fancied.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was never nervous about these dances. While, as was pointed out before, no girl had ever paid much attention to him, he was an excellent dancer, and when he finally started dancing with girls (in his fifth year), he was a prefect, and therefore very sought-after. Now, of course, every girl smiled at him as he passed by, and he obliged their fancies and danced with everyone. Of course, his favorite was Paulettina, who was light and graceful on her feet, and was always ready to dance some more. Nicholas was a good dancer as well, though he lacked the spring that Albus had, he certainly did not lack grace, and he, too, was sought-after.  
  
Albus looked at himself in the full-length mirror in their dormitory, adjusting his jacket a little, and straightening his handkerchief in his pocket.  
  
"How do I look?" He said, turning to Nicholas.  
  
"What does it matter?" Nicholas replied, "You will dance with every pretty girl in the room and they will all fall madly in love with you."  
  
"Nicholas, do not be sarcastic," Albus exclaimed, "How do I look?"  
  
Nicholas sighed and surveyed Albus, "You look decent, respectable, hard-working and clever. Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes," Albus said, though he was highly unsatisfied with Nicholas' answer. He had hoped for words like dashing, bold, handsome. Of course, he couldn't expect these sort of answers from his best friend, much less a man.  
  
They made their way from the dorm and down to the Great Hall, from which a lively air was coming. As they entered, Albus looked around at the hundreds of people, and then up at the sky, which was very dark and clear, the stars freckling it lightly.  
  
"Come on," Nicholas tugged at his sleeve, "Go find someone to dance with."  
  
As they wandered among the many groups of girls, stopping occasionally to write their names in a book, Albus could not help but be very distracted from the small talk. Nicholas was more alert and polite on these occasions, though he did not much like society, and covered for Albus in particular that night.  
  
The seventh-year Hufflepuff girls entered and, immediately, several young men swarmed over to them, to fill out their books. It was Albus' last chance.  
  
"Excuse me," Albus said to the group of Slytherins they were talking to, "I must attend to someone I promised a dance to tonight."  
  
He bowed, and walked hurriedly over to the group of boys that was gathered around the Hufflepuffs. As he pushed his way through, he saw Gabriella, in a dark blue dress, flirting with a Ravenclaw, and the other girls from his Herbology class. He did not see Poppy, however, and was just turning, when he heard Gabriella call out shrilly, "Poppy! Poppy dearest! Come here!"  
  
Albus turned back and saw Poppy, wearing a deep red dress that looked stunning on her, smiling politely as she entered into the group. Immediately, her book was taken, and Albus watched in despair as it slowly began to fill up with names that were not his.   
  
When he finally managed to grasp it, they were quite alone.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" Poppy said in surprise.  
  
"Miss Pomfrey," Albus replied calmly.  
  
"What are you - How are you this evening?" She recovered quickly. She eyed her book in his hands, as though she wanted to snatch it back.  
  
"I am quite well," Albus returned, and promptly filled out his name on three waltzes in which the dancers did not change partners, so that he would have all the time to speak with her. He handed it back.  
  
"I must attend to Miss Hallings, if you will excuse me," He bowed, and walked swiftly away.  
  
"Miss Pomfrey?" A handsome Slytherin approached her, "It is our dance?"  
  
"What? Oh, yes, forgive me," Poppy bowed, and then took his arm.  
  
Throughout the dance, however, she watched Albus, who was dancing with Miss Virginia Hallings of Ravenclaw, the same red-haired girl who Nicholas had ignored. Virginia Hallings batted her eyelashes a lot, and seemed to think that everything Albus said was funny, and he seemed charmed by it. Poppy sighed, hoping that he did not fancy her, for they were not suited for each other. Albus Dumbledore needed someone clever, handsome was not enough, someone like...  
  
"Thank you, Miss Pomfrey," The Slytherin bowed, and Poppy was soon swept away into another young man's arms.  
  
After eight dances, Poppy was feeling very worn and her hair was drooping, so, after making sure that she did not have a name down for that particular dance, she retreated to the powder room to freshen up. Inside the powder room it was loud, crowded, and uncomfortably hot. Poppy was pinning her hair up again, when someone reached over her and snatched her book away.  
  
Poppy whirled around, "Gabriella!"  
  
"Yes?" Gabriella looked very sour indeed.  
  
"You frightened me."  
  
"Oh?" She did not seem to care. She was too busy looking through Poppy's book, "Hmmmm...How interesting."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Gabriella handed her back her book, "Nothing. I just noticed that you have three dances with Mister Dumbledore."  
  
"Is something amiss, Gabriella, dearest?"  
  
"I just thought you found him rude and offensive."  
  
"I do."  
  
"But you are still going to dance with him?"  
  
"Well, I can not refuse, that would be insolent! I did not ask him to fill out my book, he did it on his own!"  
  
Gabriella gave Poppy a calculating look, a suspicious look, and then turned and left the room. Poppy felt her stomach contract. Though Gabriella was often upset with her, she hated it, and now she wished that she had never allowed Albus Dumbledore to fill out her book. Having Gabriella upset at her was not worth having Albus Dumbledore dance with her, even if it was three waltzes. Blinking back tears, she fixed her hair again.  
  
All the chatter stopped, however, when there was a knock on the door. The girls all looked at it. The Ravenclaw closest to it opened it slowly.  
  
"I am truly sorry to bother you, ladies, but I am looking for Miss Pomfrey of Hufflepuff, for the dance?"  
  
Poppy stood hurriedly, knocking over the powder dish. She smoothed her dress, and, all eyes on her, walked to the door, where Albus was waiting for her. He offered his arm, and escorted her out onto the dance floor.  
  
There, they began to waltz, and Albus found that Poppy was an excellent dancer. They circled the floor, Poppy's skirts swishing, as she carefully avoided Albus' eyes, which were focused, unwavering, on her face. She passed Gabriella, who was dancing with a young man from their own house, who looked away from her quickly.  
  
"Miss Patil is upset with you?" Albus asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I feared she would be, however, she should not spoil our dance."  
  
"Why did you sign your name in my book? You never have before."  
  
"I wanted to talk to you. I hoped that I could apologize for my rude behavior in the   
infirmary on Thursday."  
  
Poppy finally looked up into his eyes, but she did not speak.  
  
"I realize that, in such a private setting, my remarks on your personal preferences of acquaintance, more specifically, Miss Patil and the other ladies of your house, were...Quite a breach in protocol," He echoed Paulettina, "And, as a gentleman, I would like to apologize for my atrocious behavior. Sincerely," He added, for Poppy did not look as though she believed him.  
  
"Your apology is accepted," She said softly.  
  
Albus smiled, "Thank you, Miss Pomfrey. No we have two more dances to become better acquainted."  
  
They bowed, as the first waltz was over, and then began dancing as the quintet struck up a   
new song.  
  
They did get better acquainted, in a friendly manner. They talked of their classes, which ones they liked and disliked, and of the teachers. Then Albus told her about his family's estate, Drakelane, which was on the sea, a grand manor house with an enormous stable full of handsome steeds. He spoke fondly of the many paths that wound around the green hills, leading to the seashore, and the trees which were always green, and the salty smell of the sea that he woke to every morning, as well as the fierce storms which raged over them during the winter time. In turn, Poppy told Albus of her family's cottage deep in the woods (keep in mind that, at this time, a cottage was usually a two- or three-story mansion with four to six bedrooms), which her great-great-great grandparents had built and her family had lived in ever since. She spoke of trees that turned the color of blood and sunshine and of soft rains that were warm and made everything smell like wet earth.  
  
"A cottage?" Albus said, "We have a cottage on Drakelane. It rests, hidden between the hills, surrounded by trees, but it is very quaint indeed."  
  
"It sounds lovely," Poppy returned politely, "Our cottage is just the right sort of cottage. It is overgrown with ivy and flowers, and sometimes the roof leaks a bit, but there is always the smell of something cooking and in the spring there are wildflowers right outside the threshold."  
  
"It sounds positively charming."  
  
"It is, and I love it dearly. You must come see it sometime, for I think it would suit you. We have a large study in which you could sit and do your research, if you did not like visiting with my family - " Poppy stopped suddenly. Had she just invited him to her house?!  
  
"Is something amiss?" Albus asked, hiding his laughter.  
  
"No, excuse me, I just tripped a bit over my hem."  
  
"I should like that very much," He smiled, "And when I return to Drakelane, you must come with me, for I would like so much to return your hospitality."  
  
"Oh, but, I fear I would be out of place in such a large manor."  
  
"Do not fear!" Albus cried, "For my family would welcome you with open arms, for they love young, handsome people and you quite fit the profile. My family are very affable people, and very wise, as well as talented. You would like them, I have no doubt."  
  
Poppy was about to answer, when the last note of the waltz was drawn, and everyone stopped dancing. She and Albus bowed, and then parted. Albus went off to find Nicholas, and Poppy found a house elf and took a glass of Butterbeer from her tray. Then, she stole out to the entrance hall, and into the front lawn, to sit on the steps, her glass in hand. It was very improper, but the night was so chilly that she was assured no one would find her.  
  
What am I doing? She wondered to herself, Asking Albus Dumbledore, a man I hardly know, to come stay with my family at our cottage? He has a cottage...On his estate! He is rich, and though I myself am by no means lacking finance...Well, he is rich and from an estimable family! No doubt that he had never heard of the Pomfreys before he met me! And he wants me to go stay with his family! They would, without a doubt, despise me for not being part of respectable, Wizarding society. Well, we are not disrespectful, just not very well known. And what of those rumors about him and that French girl...But that supposedly was fruitless and in vain. Oh, but I would love so much to go to Drakelane and stay with him, he's so charming, I never would have thought - Oh, stop lying to yourself! He has been just as charming ever since your first year and you know that you are quite -   
  
Poppy dropped her glass, and it shattered on the step below her. The pieces shone brightly in the moonlight. She nearly slapped herself. Albus Dumbledore was, without a doubt, very charming, but he was not interested in her for anything more than friendship. So there was no point in doting on him. Poppy pulled out her wand.  
  
"Reparo," She said, pointing at the broken shards of glass. They were swept together and became a full glass again. Holding the glass in one hand, Poppy brushed off her dress with the other, and then swept up the steps back into the hall. 


	8. Part 8

Part 8  
  
Two mornings later, a gray owl came in with the mail, and landed next to Albus. Albus took its letter, and gave it his eggs, which he was not in the mood for. He observed the envelope and recognized his father's handwriting. After opening it, he read :   
  
//Albus,  
  
Son, I do not wish to interrupt or disturb your time at Hogwarts, but I must tell you of the events that have been taking place of late at Drakelane. Do not fear, we are all in perfect health. However, for the past week, Lord Stairfawn and his family have been residing with us. It would be discourteous to not indulge them, and ask them to continue their stay. They are here for Christmas as well.   
  
You may have guessed it, which I do not doubt, but Lord Stairfawn has already approached me twice. It seems he wants his daughter married, and he wants her married soon, or at the very least, given a guarantee of her engagement to a respectable young man. Of course, you are his first pick, as well as Miss Stairfawn's.  
  
I know that she did not exactly strike you as the kind of girl you would choose for a wife, at your prior meeting. Indeed, she is the dumbest girl I believe I have ever met. I do not know why her parents insist on keeping her uneducated, and I do not dare inquire. They are slowly beginning to put pressure on me to write to you and force you into an engagement with Dominique.  
  
I will do nothing of the sort, yet. I must remind you, however, that in today's society, all anyone really cares is that a handsome, intelligent man such as yourself marries a beautiful wife. If she were smart, that would be better, but she is not. Dominique Stairfawn comes with an enormous inheritance, an estate, and her pretty face to parade about on your arm. I know it sounds very crass, but these are the facts. Please, do not completely disregard her, or, if you do, only do it because you have found someone better.  
  
Sincerely,  
Signed Father//  
  
Albus read the letter once more, and sighed.  
  
"What is this?" Paulettina snatched it out of his hand, smiling. As she read it, her face fell, "Oh dear. What are you going to do?"  
  
"I am not sure," Albus rumpled his hair, "It seems almost as if there is nothing I can do but refuse. It would not be a complete dishonor, and quite understandable, but Mother and Father..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They are not as...Forward with their feelings as I am. They are lovable people, but easily taken advantage of by people such as Lord Stairfawn. Dominique is just Lord Stairfawn's pawn to get himself more power. I have seen him with her, and he keeps her dumbed down so that she can not think anything for herself."  
  
"She is beautiful, though, is she not?" Paulettina asked, returning the letter.  
  
Albus took it, and folded it into his breast pocket, "Yes, but I want more than a beautiful wife, Paulettina. I want someone who is smart and clever and not afraid to tell me that she thinks I am a cad, if I am a cad indeed."  
  
"You are never a cad, Albus," Paulettina said gently, "Never."  
  
"I am, just not to you, because you will lecture me for it, and you give the most painful lectures. Worse than Professor Green. However, I can be a cad, and I need a wife who is brave enough to set me in line, for I believe it is the wife who really keeps order in the family. If she has a claim on the husband's affections, she can tell him when something is amiss. I need a girl who can do that, and, even more importantly, I need a girl that I can love. I can not love a porcelain doll."  
  
Paulettina nodded, "Is there someone here, perhaps, that you love?"  
  
Albus rubbed his face vigorously, "Not that I can think of. Do not be cross, dearest, for I hold you in the highest regard, but I do not think I could ever consider you as a wife to me."  
  
"Of course not," Paulettina was very sincere, "That would not be an agreeable situation for our relationship."  
  
"I am so glad you think that," Albus sighed, "...All the girls here are giggly and flirty, and I do not like them very much. I can pretend, but no one here is really, truly honest, and none of them will own their affections, and those who do own my affections for me as well as their own...No, I have yet to meet a girl that really is material to make a wife."  
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
Albus looked at Paulettina, who had a mischievous look on her pretty face. Her eyes darted to the left, towards the other side of the hall, then looked back at Albus, sparkling. Albus was puzzled, and his face wore a puzzled look, as he followed her glance.   
  
It was as though God had thrown down a light on her. He looked past the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins, straight to the Hufflepuff table. There, sitting by herself and looking lost in thought, was Poppy Pomfrey. Her chin was on her hand, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, reflecting the clouds. Albus was transfixed by her image. Poppy Pomfrey was honest, clever, handsome, and respectable.  
  
Poppy suddenly seemed to come to her senses. Her eyes locked with Albus', and she blushed deeply, gathered her things, and left in a flurry.  
  
"Paulettina, you are a genius!" Albus exclaimed. He gently kissed his friend on the forehead, "Thank you. You have saved me."  
  
"Not completely. Now you must write home and tell your father."  
  
"I will do that now," Albus leapt up, and gathered his books of pieces of parchment.  
  
"We have class!" Paulettina called after him.  
  
Albus whirled around, "You are right! I'll do that tonight!"  
  
"Come, Albus," Paulettina stood, finishing the last sentences of the letter she was holding. It was not long, and immediately captured Albus' interest.  
  
"Who is that from?" He asked.  
  
"No one," Paulettina said, folding it quickly, and tucking it in her pocket, "Let us go."  
  
Albus said no more, but he thought he had recognized the hand that had written the letter very well. He also noticed that Nicholas looked very red as they passed him on their way out.  
  
  
Paulettina would do anything to help her dearest friends out in such a situation, and therefore had to be very honest with herself. Albus, she decided, could use all the help he could get. He had never before seriously courted a girl, and it was important to know a girl's passions and pursuits before trying to please her with anything meaningful. A practical girl would find flowers and bits of poetry redundant and foolish, where as a romantic girl would find disgust in proper conversations and invitations for walks on the lawn.  
  
So, between the first and second lessons of the day, Paulettina stood outside the infirmary and cursed herself. It was not a terrible curse, but it was enough to knock her unconscious for ten minutes. When she woke up, Paulettina was laying on a bed, covered by a blanket, and with a terrible headache.  
  
"Miss Farrows, you are very ill," A gentle voice met her ears, "You will have to rest here for the next two days."  
  
"Oh, no, I will be quite all right, I must attend class," Paulettina replied in a groggy voice.  
  
"I can tell," The voice said, with a bite of sarcasm, "Miss Pomfrey, give her a sleeping draught and let her rest."  
  
"Yes Madame Corlow."  
  
Paulettina felt a goblet being put to her lips, and she drank. Almost immediately, she fell   
back onto the pillow in a deep sleep.  
  
  
When she woke the second time, it was two days later, and she saw by the cards on her nightstand that Albus and Nicholas had been to visit. Besides the cards, there were two enormous bouquets, and sweets. Paulettina smiled.  
  
A rustling sound made her look over. Poppy Pomfrey stood there, a bottle in hand.  
  
"I saw you were awake," She said, "And you must take this medicine."  
  
Poppy spooned the yellow liquid into Paulettina's mouth.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Poppy asked.  
  
"Quite well, Miss Pomfrey, quite well."  
  
"I shall leave you to rest, then," Poppy turned to go.  
  
"No, please, stay, it will become so dull in here without someone to talk to," Paulettina urged, "I have long wanted to make your acquaintance, Miss Pomfrey, after our carriage incident, and after you danced with Mister Dumbledore so much last Saturday."  
  
Poppy immediately became very interested, and took a seat next to Paulettina's bed.  
  
"He speaks very highly of you, in every regard," Paulettina smiled.  
  
"I am sure Mister Dumbledore exaggerates very much with his flattery," Poppy looked very pleased nonetheless.  
  
"Oh no! Not at all!" Paulettina pushed herself up on her pillows, "Quite the opposite! Mister Dumbledore never exaggerates, especially in flattery. He is very arrogant, one of his many faults, and he despises effected or unintelligent people. It seems a dreadful flaw, but you must imagine it from his point of view. One of the most brilliant minds of our time, and he must spend his days with people who are nowhere near his understanding of...Almost anything!"  
  
"I sometimes feel that way," Poppy said, "Though I am sure it is nowhere near the degree   
of Mister Dumbledore's, or Mister Flamels'."  
  
"I am not so sure," Paulettina resisted the urge to wink, "For he told me the day after the ball that you were witty, clever, honest, and he thought you to be the handsomest girl in school."  
  
Poppy blushed deeply.  
  
"I have embarrassed you," Paulettina sighed, "I should not have broached such a subject, but I could not help myself. I find that anyone who Albus holds in high regard, the more compelled I am to get to know them."  
  
They were silent for a time, Poppy staring very hard at the wall.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore is a very esteemable man," Poppy said finally, her words constrained.  
  
"He is, more than anyone really knows," Paulettina jumped at the chance to glorify her friend, "Mister Dumbledore loves to tell jokes and he is wonderful to talk to about anything and everything in the world."  
  
Poppy blushed a little and went silent again.  
  
"You know," Paulettina finally said, pulling out her wand, "I should very much like to   
draw you. Drawing is one of my favorite things to do, and I often thought you would be an interesting subject."  
  
Poppy looked at her, "Miss Farrows, I am not sure...I have never before sat for a portrait."  
  
"It is not hard," Paulettina said, "Please, would you be so kind as to let me? A simple sketch would do. It would take a quarter of an hour. Possibly less."  
  
"I suppose," Poppy said reluctantly.  
  
Paulettina was delighted with her scheme. She quickly placed Poppy in the room so that a beam of sunlight fell from the window and gave her an angelic look, haloing her face, illuminating her dark curls. Paulettina conjured herself a pad of sketching paper and two pencils, and quickly set about her work. It was not long before she had a portrait that perfectly captured the way the loose curls fell about Poppy's face, or how the slender fingers bent, or the deep-set eyes and the long lashes, or anything that Paulettina thought benefited the lovely girl.  
  
  
"What does your father say?" Paulettina asked.  
  
"You have returned!" Albus said, enveloping Paulettina in a hug.  
  
"Yes," Paulettina squirmed out, "What does your father say?"  
  
"I have not written him yet. I heard you had turned ill and immediately went to visit you, and my father's letter was put at the back of my mind."  
  
"I am sorry I missed you, but I was given a sleeping draught by Miss Pomfrey and it was quite effective."  
  
Paulettina sat and took in the effect that her simple comment had on Albus. He sat across from her in a red armchair.  
  
"Did you speak at all with Miss Pomfrey?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, I did," Paulettina smiled, "We became very well acquainted, she is a lovely girl. We learned all about each other, for we had six hours of chatting together, you know. She is very honest and modest."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"She told me all about Wizarding medicine. She plans on taking over Madame Corlow's job when she retires, which, of course will not be for several years after Miss Pomfrey graduates."  
  
"A nurse!" Albus cried, "She would be a well-respected woman indeed were she to take on such a profession!"  
  
Paulettina nodded, "But what I found most charming is how humble she is. She lives a modest lifestyle at her cottage with her family, and she is so lovely, yet she remains very much in reality. She takes pleasure in simple things. She loves wildflowers, especially red and yellow ones, and she adores animals. Her favorite thing to eat in the world is dried cherries. Can you imagine how wonderful? I rarely see the great beauties of the world in such simple things as wildflowers, and they are bountiful on my family's estate, but I always take them for granted. What a shame that we do not have them here during winter, and that dried cherries are unavailable to us, considering the time of year."  
  
Paulettina sighed dramatically, "I must go see our professors, to get the work I missed. I will see you at dinner."  
  
  
Albus sat for a moment, and, after watching the portrait hole close, ran up to his desk. He sat down, took up a quill, and stuck it in an open ink well. Then he pulled open the drawer to get a piece of parchment, and -   
  
There, laying on top, was a stiff piece of paper with a detailed sketch of a lovely girl on it. Albus smiled, and took it out, making sure not to get fingerprints on it. In the bottom, right-hand corner were the initials P.F. Albus could have kissed Paulettina, had she been there. He set it carefully on his desk and then pulled out parchment. He took his quill and wrote :   
  
//Dearest Mother and Father,  
  
I understand your urgency and your anxiety over this particular matter of my choosing a bride. I think you will be quite relieved to find that I have found a girl here that is a more than decent replacement for Miss Stairfawn. Her name is Poppy Pomfrey, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, and I fear you would love her so much you would never want to let her go. She is handsome, clever, and witty. This is all I can say for now, for I do not know her very well, and have not officially begun to court her. Please, hold off Lord Stairfawn for as long as you can. I will see you at Christmas, and then do the best I can to ward him off as well.  
  
Love,  
Signed Albus//  
  
Albus took the picture, and, using a simple charm, made a small copy of it and applied it to the letter, so that there was a picture of Poppy for his parents to see.  
  
Albus ran down to the owlery and immediately sent the letter off. 


	9. Part 9

Part Nine  
  
Poppy stirred slightly. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and then shut as a pale beam of winter sunlight fell through a crack between her bed curtains. She sat up, her night cap falling onto her back, and pulled the curtains open. The day outside was gray, foggy, and dull. After   
glancing at the clock and seeing what time it was, she stood up, stretched, and began to change.   
  
As she was putting on her shoes, there was the gentle sound of small feet padding down the corridor towards their doorway. She thought it must be one of the first year girls (all of whom she adored, and received as much affection from them in return), but then there was a gentle knock at the door. In a panic, thinking one of the girls had taken ill (there was a cough going around), Poppy fled to the door, and opened it to find no one in sight. At her feet was a large (not enormous, but large) bouquet of lovely red and yellow wildflowers. They were tied with a bit of string, and a piece of parchment lay on top. Picking them up carefully, Poppy looked at the parchment, and found only her name written in dark red ink.  
  
Astounded but very pleased, Poppy closed the door behind her and carried the wildflowers into the room. She conjured a vase for them, and set them on her nightstand, where they looked very pretty. Then, speculating from whom they might have come, Poppy turned to the mirror and pinned up her hair.  
  
"Oh Poppy!" A voice said as one of the girl's woke, "How lovely! Where did you get   
them?"  
  
The other girls stirred at the sound of her voice, and before Poppy could answer, were all exclaiming over the flowers and wondering who they were from, and where the mysterious sender had got them at this time of the year. They did this for the next half an hour as they dressed, and all the way down to breakfast, until they took their seats and were distracted by their repast.  
  
In Herbology, Poppy was planting some large, purplish seeds in a corner, when one of her dorm mates, Delila Carfarow, a pretty girl, leaned over from her tray and said, "I think I know who the flowers are from."  
  
"What are you talking about, Delila?" Poppy returned, not taking her eyes off the seeds in her hand.  
  
"You know who they're from just as well as I do," Delila continued in the same, confident whisper, "I daresay there was another note on those flowers that you took off and have hidden away in your pocket so as to keep it a secret."  
  
"Delila, please, if I knew, I would not keep any secrets from you or the other girls. You are my closest friends and I would not conceal anything of this nature from you, for I know it would delight you so to hear about it."  
  
She would have continued on, but Professor Parlhod interrupted and drew their attention away to some shrubs that were growing just outside the greenhouse door. Poppy was relieved, for she thought she did know who the flowers were from, and though it might be obvious, no one would speak his name until she absolutely disclosed the information to her peers.  
  
  
For the next two weeks, unfailingly, every morning there was a bouquet of wildflowers waiting outside the door of the dormitory when Poppy awoke, and, just as consistent was the lack of any clue as to who they might be from. Each morning, the previous day's flowers were turned upside down and hung from her bed frame, and the new day's flowers placed in the vase. Delila and the other girls were in a flutter over the Mysterious Sender, or M.S. as they were beginning to call him, but Gabriella looked daily more and more put out by this constant attention to Poppy's personal affairs.  
  
Poppy noticed this, but she was so shy and reserved that she did not know how to approach Gabriella on the matter. She supposed that, if Gabriella wanted to discuss it, she would have no problem whatsoever bringing it to Poppy's attention. With this confidence, Poppy returned home to her cottage for the holidays.  
  
  
Albus did not look out the carriage windows as he drew nearer to his dear home, Drakelane. He was eager to return to his family and see his mother and father, however, he did not want the pleasant picture of his home ruined by the eager face of Lord Stairfawn and Mrs. Stairfawn, or the dull, uninterested, unaware face of Dominique Stairfawn.   
  
The carriage slowed to a stop, and the footman appeared, opened the door, and Albus stepped down. As the carriage pulled away, he looked up at his magnificent manor ; The great stone walls, the wide doors, the windows which now reflected the black clouds that were rolling in. Smiling to himself, glad to be home, he went to the door, opened it, and walked in. Immediately, a servant ran up to him.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" He said, "I am terribly sorry! I did not hear your carriage, otherwise, I would have opened the door for you!"  
  
"It is quite all right, Harold, do not be at all distressed. Where is my family?"  
  
"In the drawing room, entertaining visitors," Harold took Albus' hat, "Of course you know that the Stairfawns are staying with us until January, but also the Whitfelds, from Sussex. Your parents are having a Christmas ball, of course."  
  
They were walking down the narrow hallways in the back of the house, taking the long route to the drawing room.  
  
"And The Stairfawns? What have they been doing all this while?"  
  
"Well, I have heard many a secluded conversation between your father and Lord Stairfawn, and he is putting a good deal of pressure for your engagement to Miss Stairfawn. Mrs. Stairfawn is pressuring your mother, likewise, but in a more subdued manner, merely suggesting it over tea and bringing up the subject of how a 'lovely girl like Dominique needs a handsome, intelligent man,'" Harold put on a high-pitched voice with a French accent, "And of course the girl just sits there and looks out the window. She is not smart enough for cards, even, though she does like pictures. For an entire evening she once sat and looked at the picture your dear friend Miss Farrows drew of the garden in the spring, and she loved it. She is a splendid dancer, as well, and quite the favorite of all the young men who have visited."  
  
At this, Harold stopped, for they had reached the drawing room door. It was open, and Albus could hear the sounds of his parents talking with the Stairfawns and the Whitfelds. There was the sound of a piano, and the constant running of juvenile feet across the carpet. Harold entered, and the conversation stopped.  
  
"Mister Albus Dumbledore," Came Harold's voice.  
  
Albus entered as Harold left, giving his faithful and favorite servant a hearty wink.   
  
His mother, Mrs. Stairfawn, and Mrs. Whitfeld were all sitting around a table, absorbed in a rubber, and his father, Lord Stairfawn, and Lord Whitfeld were all by the fire discussing politics. Somewhere in the back, near the window, sat Dominique, looking lovely as usual, and the Whitfeld's children. They all bowed to each other.  
  
"Albus dearest!" His mother said, coming forward, arms open, "How we have missed you darling."  
  
"Hello mother," He said, stooping to kiss her cheek.  
  
"Albus, my boy, you look very fine indeed," His father, who was a portly man with a powdered wig sitting slightly askew on his head, came forward and shook his hand, "Surely you remember the Stairfawns, and the Whitfelds?"  
  
"Of course," Albus replied, smiling a very pained smile. He shook hands with Lord Stairfawn, Lord Whitfeld (a very jolly man with a sunny disposition), Mrs. Stairfawn and Mrs. Whitfeld.  
  
Albus was once again introduced to Dominique, who, having just realized he was there, stood in a hurry and knocked over a figurine on the table. In her rush to apologize, she almost knocked over the table as well. After gathering herself, she shook hands with Albus, smiling coyly, and asked him if he had been at the manor long.  
  
The Whitfelds were some of Albus' favorite people, for they were always full of jokes and laughter, and enjoyed nothing more than a gathering of friendly people for dancing and visiting.  
  
"It is so wonderful to see you again," Mrs. Whitfeld said as he kissed her cheek, "Come, you have not seen Rebecca or Jared in so long, they have missed you very much."  
  
"Albus!" A little voice piped up from somewhere in the corner.  
  
Albus stooped and caught in his arms the small, gangly boy that was Jared. Jared was very brown from the sun, his blonde hair standing almost straight up on his head, his face freckled, and wriggling with excitement.  
  
"I have not seen you, sir, for quite some time!" Albus exclaimed, as he crouched so as to look Jared in the eye, "We have some catching up to do! I daresay that a ride about the estate is due for you to tell me all about your life!"  
  
"Yes!" Jared yelled, jumping up and down.  
  
"It is unfortunate that you are nine years younger than me, for in two years you would be coming to Hogwarts, but I will already be graduated. I would love so much for you to come and I would show you all around - Provided you were in Gryffindor, of course."  
  
"All of our family have been, Mister Dumbledore, I do not think that will be a concern," A feminine voice said.  
  
Albus looked up, and saw Rebecca, standing in front of the piano. Albus, who had not seen her for three years, was shocked. Standing where there was once a skinny, clumsy, awkward young girl was now a beautiful, blossoming, graceful young woman. Her hair was the lightest of reddish-blonde, her eyes deep green in her handsome face. Her figure was graceful and she stood over him, gazing down at him with one brow raised.  
  
"Miss Whitfeld," Albus said as he rose slowly, "How lovely to see you again."  
  
He shook hands with her.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore," She smiled, "Is something the matter?"  
  
"No," Albus shook himself, "You have grown quite lovely, if I may say so, and you are most certainly not the young girl that I once knew, who got her hems caught on the rose bushes and danced on the fountains."  
  
Rebecca did not blush, only smiled openly at him, obviously enjoying the attention, "I am no longer that young girl, I agree, and you are no longer that young boy."  
  
"I do not think it proper for you to call me a young boy, when I am two years your senior," Albus said, smiling back.  
  
"You were once thin and gangly yourself, and I daresay that you still are," Rebecca looked at him as though daring him to reprimand her.  
  
"Albus!" His mother's voice rang out, "Albus come sit and visit! Let Rebecca return to her music, for we enjoy it so much."  
  
"Yes, mother," Albus replied without taking his eyes off Rebecca's. He bowed slowly, turned, and rejoined the main party.  
  
  
Albus' holiday was a very odd one, indeed. He spent much of his time visiting and being purposely left in rooms with Dominique. She had not improved her mind any since their last visit, and did not seem aware that her parents were fixing to get her married off. Albus avoided being left with her at all costs. He did, indeed, go riding with Jared every day, all around the park, down to the seashore and up and down the green hills. They were so near the ocean that they did not get snow, though they were trapped in a few days during violent storms.  
  
Rebecca was a very mysterious girl indeed. Albus had no idea where she disappeared to during the day, as she only showed up for meals, and in the drawing room after dinner she would sit at the piano and play the entire time. Albus wanted to talk to her more, and sometimes would force her away from the piano (politely, of course), and they would visit for a moment or two. She did not go to Hogwarts, she went to a private school in the country, and she wanted to study music for the rest of her life. She was a bit stand-offish and rather full of herself, but in a charming way; However, Albus soon resorted to spending more time with the general company.  
  
Four more families came to stay with them, and Albus spent much of his day with their sons, who were his age. They were Muggle families, so wands and spell books were hidden away, and Hogwarts was never mentioned. On Christmas day, in the late afternoon carriages started arriving for the ball. Albus spent the night flirting and dancing with every pretty girl, and with Dominique four times, for she was a splendid dancer and they were thrown together quite often. Albus saw Rebecca once, sitting, half-hidden behind a curtain, looking beautiful, but obviously not inclined to visit. He suspected she wanted very much to go into the billiard room to talk politics with the men, but that was not acceptable.   
  
Halfway through the ball, Albus saw a young man of about twenty-three approach her, and they were engaged in polite discussion for the rest of the night, though Rebecca was never persuaded to dance. Albus thought this behavior very curious, for Rebecca was not one to be shy or withheld in any manner.  
  
  
The next morning, Albus looked out the window of his chamber and saw Rebecca walking aimlessly amongst the hedges. He dressed quickly, ran down the stairs, and out the door without breakfast.  
  
"Rebecca!" He called.  
  
She turned and saw him running towards her, and stopped her walking.  
  
"Rebecca!" He repeated as he stopped.  
  
"You should not call me by my Christian name, Mister Dumbledore," Rebecca replied in a severe voice, "It is no proper."  
  
"Oh, do not be prudent with me now, Rebecca, you were born in my house and I have known you ever since. I have not seen you in three years' time, but that is unimportant. I still consider you a dear friend."  
  
"I hold you in the same regard," She answered cordially.  
  
"I am glad. Now tell me, why did you not join in the dancing and merry-making last night?"  
  
"I do not enjoy spending time in such pursuits with Muggles."  
  
"What difference does it make?"  
  
"Not much, but they are ignorant and boorish."  
  
"Was the young man you talked with for so long not a Muggle? I thought he was."  
  
"No, he is Wizarding."  
  
"And what is his name?"  
  
"Samuel Parson. He graduated Hogwarts six years ago."  
  
"I do remember him! He was Head Boy in my first year! A Ravenclaw, I believe?"  
  
"Slytherin."  
  
"And how are you acquainted?" Albus hoped he was not prying to much.  
  
"His father is an old schoolmate of my mother. They once courted but were never engaged, and have remained friends these many years," Rebecca's eyes were very red, Albus noticed, "He is my fiancee."  
  
"What?!" Albus yelled.  
  
"Please, Albus, keep your voice down!" Rebecca said, putting on hand on Albus' chest, as if to stop him from running away. Her brows were drawn together, her chin trembling very hard.  
  
"I must have not heard you correctly, Rebecca, your fiancee?"  
  
"No, you did. We have been promised to each other. Of course," Rebecca bit her bottom   
lip and blinked very hard, "We will wait until I am graduated, and then I will be married to him, the summer after my last year."  
  
"You are only sixteen!" Albus exclaimed, "Surely...And your parents?"  
  
"They think it is wonderful," A tear slowly slid down her cheek, "It is not as horrible as I make it seem, Mister Parson is a wonderful man, he is good and he loves music as I do, it is not a bad match at all."  
  
"Then why are you so upset?"  
  
Rebecca turned away from him, but Albus caught her hand, and forced her to look him in the eye.  
  
"I just wish that my parents would have let me have my own choice, for I wanted a bit of freedom. Men do not understand what it is like to be used in order to gain honor and respect and power. I wanted to study music for some years before I settled down."  
  
"Your parents would never use you in such a way as that!" Albus said, "Never! I know   
your parents, and they are absolutely not the sort of people who do such an atrocious thing. Did you have no say?"  
  
"I had very little. They made it clear to me that they wanted to see me settled, and they let me choose whom I wanted...I would have chosen Mister Parson in any case, for I could not have you."  
  
Albus' head was spinning, so though he heard what she had said, it was a moment before that comment sunk in, and when he looked up at Rebecca, she was staring over at the sea.  
  
"Dearest, how horrible," Albus said. He took her hand, and kissed it gently, "But we must make the best of it, right?"  
  
Rebecca nodded, another tear following the trail of the previous one. 


	10. Part 10

Part Ten  
  
"Mister Dumbledore, it is an unparalleled delight to see you again!" Poppy said sincerely as she bowed to him.  
  
"I must say that I feel quite the same," Albus returned, and offered his arm, "Pray, how was your holiday?"  
  
"Splendid," Poppy smiled earnestly, "I spent all of my time with my family, and there was never a dull moment."  
  
She continued to speak in such a light, carefree way, though, in truth, her heart was sick with worry. Poppy had spent a good deal of time with her family, which brought her upmost joy, but over the holidays they had had company, a young man by the name of Reginald Amberforth. He was of about thirty years in age, and it was well known in society that he was looking for someone pretty to marry. Poppy had got to know him quite more than she cared for. While around her family, he was polite, gentle, eloquent, and all together the exact sort of man that she would love to marry, he was completely different when they were alone.  
  
Which was not often, for after there first few secluded encounters, Poppy began to avoid being left alone with him. She found him short-tempered and, to say the least, frightening. He got a look in his eyes that was so menacing and made her want to flee the spot as fast as she could. Etiquette prevented that, and she was forced to stay and make polite conversation. Reginald Amberforth was crass, vulgar, and, though not lacking scholarly intelligence, not very bright.  
  
There had been one incident that had left her shaking for nearly an hour afterwards. Poppy had made a simple comment on her views in politics, which highly contradicted his own. He had thrown his brandy glass down on the floor, stormed over to her, put one hand on either arm of the chair she was sitting at, and yelled in her face for nearly ten minutes, before someone knocked timidly on the door and he straightened himself up. Poppy had promptly fled the scene to her chamber, and stayed their for the rest of the day, claiming she had a very bad headache and needed much bed rest.  
  
Some of this showed on her face as they danced, and Albus finally inquired, "Is there something the matter, Miss Pomfrey? You look quite out of sorts."  
  
"No," She shook her head, "Thank you for your kind inquiry. I caught a bit of a cold during the holiday and I fear that I am quite pale since."  
  
Albus said no more. He thought that she had perhaps had something that disagreed with her for dinner, or that she was simply nervous about being with him (Albus could be so arrogant sometimes!) again, after a two-week hiatus from any sort of communication. He resigned to put those worries to rest, and immediately began formulating a plan in which he would woo her, escape Dominique Stairfawn, and relieve her from whatever troubled her all at once.  
  
  
A week later, after an exhausting return to schoolwork, at the Saturday ball, Albus was nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it that he had been called away by his father to attend to family business in town, and would not be back for quite some time. Poppy did not dance at all that night, for she was nearly sick with worry over him. He had grown quite attached to her in the last week, always escorting her to her classes and to meals, and they spent much of their spare time together as well (though never without a chaperone). If he was to be late for their tea together, he would send a note, or if he was detained in class, he would send a note. Always, always, he sent a note, and now, nothing.  
  
Of course part of her worry was out of arrogance. Any young girl feels that intoxicating mixture of pride and flattery within her stomach when a young man begins to pay overly adequate attention to her. When a girl realizes the power that she has over men with her own charms and beauty, she wants only for everyone to see her with that man and how much control she has. Of course, Poppy was not as bad as many, but she could not deny that she loved the looks on everyone's faces as Albus waited to escort her to luncheon or to their next class. She loved how he hovered around the doorway of the Great Hall in his ruffled shirt at the balls, so that the moment she walked in he could snatch her book and take all the best dances. But she cared for him greatly, more than most percieved, and his sudden disappearance frightened her.  
  
Poppy left the ball early and returned to her dormitory to sleep fitfully for the next nine hours, until she rose at six, before the sun, feeling gloomy and out of sorts. The knock on her door, and the usual bouquet of flowers. The dormitory was now fairly overflowing with the dried buds, and it had become a great mystery for the entire school. Everyone wondered when the M.S. would reveal himself to her and they would officially begin courting. Poppy yawned and decided that an early-morning walk on the grounds was a good idea, for it would refresh her spirits, and she had not visited her favorite spot in quite a long time.  
  
Her favorite spot was a private discovery of hers from her first year, when she spent much of her time wandering alone by herself. Over a knoll behind the castle, out of view of the Quidditch pitch, there began a little footpath, and it lead towards the Forbidden Forest. The forest itself was not so dark and gloomy over there, but full of tall pines. She had followed the path nervously, until it came to a small clearing with a small pond glistening in the afternoon sunlight. In summer, it was a lovely spot, full of flowers and butterflies and tall grasses bending slightly in the breeze. In winter, it was foggy and dark and frightening, and Poppy loved it.  
  
She knew she was not the only one who knew of its existence, for she had often perceived that there was someone else there. Not watching her, but she thought that perhaps, they too, found it as comfortable as she did. There, she did not worry that her skirt was rumpled, and she never hesitated to let her hair loose or take of her shoes and dip them in the water. She suspected that they were only looking for leisure and tranquility, but she had never encountered them, only seen their shadow darting between trees.  
  
Now, she pulled on her rose-colored dress with the white lace that she loved, and hastily pinned her hair up, not caring that it was a bit messy, for no one would see her. She slipped on her heavier boots (they would not show below her hem), and pulled her cloak over her shoulders, fastening it around her throat. Then, making sure that the other girls still slept peacefully, she blew out the candle she had lit, opened the door and stole out into the stone passageway. Up through the common room, where last night's embers glowed faintly, and out the door.  
  
As she hurried through the halls of the school, she made careful not to make any noise of her feet upon the stone floor, or brush any statue with her cloak. No one was up. Everyone still slept peacefully in their beds, and she was alone. Out into the entrance hall, through the great doors, and down the steps. She went around the school, towards the back, glancing over her shoulder once or twice to see if anyone was watching her from the windows, but no one was in sight. They had been having a warmer winter, and there was very little snow, but lots of rain. The mist veiled her from anyone who might have been watching out the windows.  
  
She found her footpath, though it was muddy, and hurried along it, almost running now, in her need for solitude. She passed through the first trees, and as they gradually got thicker, she slowed down. She could see it through the mist and the tall trunks. There it was, her lovely pond, though dark green now in the winter, with no butterflies and no sparkling sun, it was still a perfect place for her.   
  
Poppy pulled the hood down off of her hair and slowly pulled the pins and combs out of the unruly mass, which had become even more so because of the damp weather. She was rather proud of her hair, in a modest way, for it was long and shiny, and she sometimes wished that etiquette did not require that she keep it up and out of her face, for she loved the thickness of it. However, any decent young woman would never be seen with her hair down in public, much less in the company of a gentleman.   
  
Poppy pulled out her wand, intending to use it to rid a patch of grass of dampness so that she could sit and ponder, when she heard something move in the grass to her right. She gasped, and turned, her wand pointing out, though she could not see anything but indistinct shadows. Another movement. Poppy gripped the wand as tightly as she could, shaking in fear. There were footsteps, very definitely footsteps, coming straight towards her. A tall, bulky shadow...Poppy felt fear overcome her...It was nearly upon her and yet she could not speak to cast a curse upon it -   
  
"Miss Pomfrey?" A startled voice said.  
  
The bulky figure walked forward. It was a young man, in a dark cloak like her own...  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" She replied in a voice much more startled than his, yet laced with relief, "You gave me a fright!"  
  
"What are you doing out of bounds, so early in the morning, and on your own?"  
  
"I was just...Walking, I suppose, I come here often to relax and...What are you doing here? I thought you were in London on family business?"  
  
"Is that what they told you?" Albus looked highly amused, "No. I was in London, and...Well, in a way it is family business, but that is not important. I am very surprised that you come here often, for I do, as well, but I have never seen you here before."  
  
"Well, I do not parade around the fact that I am often out of bounds during school," Poppy pulled her cloak around her tighter, "I do so much enjoy being on my own in nature."  
  
"It is not safe for you to be out on your own," Albus looked very solemn, "You should always bring a chaperone."  
  
"Oh," Poppy looked defiantly at him, "And of course it is not at all dangerous for you to be out here on your own, is it?"  
  
Albus' look changed to surprise, and then to amusement.  
  
"Excuse me for my presumptuous behavior," He said, bowing a little.  
  
Poppy felt very timid, so she took a step forward, and they walked silently around to the other side of the pond. Poppy was very surprised, indeed, to see a blanket spread out on the ground, as well as utensils, plates, glasses, and two wicker baskets. Poppy suddenly felt very bashful. Obviously, Albus was waiting for someone, and, in search of intimacy, had come here.   
  
"Oh, I am dreadfully sorry," Poppy said, turning and facing him, "I see I have ruined your private...Gathering. I will go so as not to interrupt."  
  
"Miss Pomfrey, you are a clever young lady, but so droll sometimes!" Albus said, laughing, "Do forgive me, but do you not realize that I had set this out and was just about to send a house elf to fetch you?"  
  
Poppy stood, only amazed.  
  
"Indeed, that is why I approached you so quickly, for I thought you were the house elf, and then you were there, without an escort and I thought..." Albus suddenly blushed, "Well...Will you join me?"  
  
Poppy recovered herself quickly, "Yes, of course, though...We should have an escort, for it is not proper."  
  
"Do you really want an escort, Miss Pomfrey?" Albus' voice was very low indeed.  
  
Poppy was about to answer yes, but checked herself. It was very nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of the school, though they were quite alone, and it was very improper to be such without someone to watch them. Yet again, she trusted Albus, she did not think he was the sort of young man who would do anything indecent.   
  
So she smiled, and said, "I think we are quite all right by ourselves. After all, we are both   
very smart, and I have my wand."  
  
"As do I," Albus pulled open one side of his jacket to show her, "Let us sit."  
  
They went to the blanket and sat slowly. Albus began pulling out toast, bacon, and eggs (all kept warm with a simple charm), and setting them out before her. There was also a steaming pot of tea and very fine china tea cups and saucers, sugar, and orange marmalade. Last but not least, Albus pulled out a little jar of dried cherries.  
  
"This was my business in London last night," He said, showing her the jar, and then opening it with a little pop, "I thought you might like something special."  
  
"How did you know that...That dried cherries..." Poppy could not find the words, and only smiled, "You are too kind, Mister Dumbledore."  
  
They began to eat, and the white sun slowly rose, though it mattered little, for its light did not add much, and the mist remained. The whole time, they made small talk, and suffered through some very awkward pauses. Poppy thought that, several times, Albus was on the point of saying something of importance, but he never got it out. Poppy dearly wished that she could bring about a more intimate subject than the weather or their latest Herbology lesson, but she was too shy to do such a thing. However, fate grew bored with their conversation, and so ordered a bit of embarrassment to cure them of their prudence.  
  
Poppy was helping Albus pack up the things when they were done eating, leaving only their tea and the jar of dried cherries, which they had saved for last, and was having a bit of trouble fastening the basket. She pulled it a bit closer to her, and a dark lock of hair fell over her eyes. Immediately, she stopped moving, except to slowly reach up and lightly touch her hair, realizing that, the entire time she had been in this secluded setting, alone with a young man, her hair had been down, and she was scandalized.  
  
"Are you all right?" Albus asked, noticing her sudden panic, "Is something amiss?"  
  
"I...I...My hair!" She fumbled in her pockets for her pins, and clumsily tried to pin it up again, only to drop the pin and lose it in the grass, her cheeks growing hotter with every second.  
  
"Miss Pomfrey," Albus said, and then, putting his hand on her wrist, "Poppy."  
  
She looked up, and was now a frightful shade of maroon at his addressing her by only her Christian name. Her first thought was to slap him for his insolence. She had not given him any permission, and they were not courting, and here he was, in all his high and mighty Albus Dumbledore-ness, calling her by her Christian name -   
  
"You look fine with your hair down, though it is a bit unruly," He playfully pulled at one corkscrew, "Truly beautiful, in fact, for you are not all fussy and proper as you are in school."  
  
If it was possible, Poppy turned even darker (it was possible, but do not try it, it is very unhealthy). But she slowly slipped her pins back into her pocket, and her color returned to normal, though her cheeks were still very pink, mostly from the chill. She sipped tea without speaking, still apparently very mortified, and Albus did not try to make her, for fear of upsetting her.  
  
In the same low voice in which he had asked her if she wanted a chaperone, Albus finally began speaking again, "I think you know the reason I have brought you here."  
  
Poppy set down her cup with a small clink.  
  
"I, for the longest time, have believed this world to lack any decent young women who are not just handsome, for there are plenty of those around, but also clever and witty. It was quite a desperate time for me, for my parents were, and still are, pushing me to marry this disgustingly uneducated girl that I despise. However, I now find that I was mistaken."  
  
Poppy didn't say anything, only looked up at him earnestly, her gray eyes wide and a half-smile on her face.  
  
"I should like very much to tell you exactly of my intentions, and they are simply this : I should like to court you, in a manner which is civil, yet not lacking of any intimacy. I hope this courtship would lead to a very intimate relation, but that is far in the future and we are only at the beginning. I would have written a letter, however, I felt that lacked sincerity and that I would never get an answer. So, now, may I have an answer?"  
  
Poppy smiled more widely, blinked once, and said, "Yes."  
  
Whatever the sun lacked, Albus made up for when she said that, for it was as though a light had pierced a shell around him and broken forth with his brilliant smile, and his sparkling, sky-blue eyes. He looked as though he would kiss her right there, but, instead, took her hand, kissed it gently, and then held it in his own. They sat and simply looked at each other, both radiating happiness, until a nervous house elf found them and insisted that they return to the castle, as it was time for their luncheon. 


	11. Part 11

Part Eleven  
  
Thus began the much-disputed, much-debated, much gossiped-about, yet all too obvious courtship of Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey. The first notion of it was that Miss Pomfrey was a deceitful traitor and had stolen his affections away from Miss Patil, her dearest friend. However, that soon got tiring and so everyone simply admired them for being intelligent and respectable, and they spoke of what great fortune Miss Pomfrey would obtain if she married Mister Dumbledore, for he was heir to a large and envied estate and fortune. Those who were acquainted with his family spoke fondly of what little they knew of Drakelane and its many fine attributes.  
  
As much admiration as there was for them, there was, of course, a dark side, as there is to any good thing. There was much more criticism, particularly from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw crowds, being less intimate to details, and therefore more likely to gossip to make up for that. The criticism was mostly directed towards Miss Pomfrey. She was, without a doubt, handsome, and she was tall, and had dark hair and gray eyes, which complimented Mister Dumbledore. But her mouth was too wide for her face, and her neck too long, and she was not stylish enough. But being from the country, one could not expect much of her. The incredible thing was that she actually lived deep in the woods and somehow managed to survive that wild territory. She was hardy and tough, as no young woman of any sort of decent rearing had any right to be.   
  
Besides all of those physical flaws, she had made the grave and irremissible mistake of not being fantastically, unbelievably, disgustingly rich. She lived in a cottage (quaint, no doubt), but her family did not even own a house in town to stay at during the winter! They stayed at the cottage all year long, which was considered a sort of deficiency, and she was snubbed for it. She was a simple country girl, her father made a moderate income, it was no wonder she attached herself to someone rich. Any girl who was handsome and poor would have enough sense to do the same. However, if Albus Dumbledore cared to waste his time on such a girl, that was his choice, surely he would see sense in the end.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was receiving criticism as well, though not in such a way as Poppy Pomfrey was. He reportedly carried around a handkerchief with her initials on it at all times in his breast pocket, and never used it, but had it washed routinely. This was very touching and sentimental, and very foolish. Was he so lacking in manners as to accept such a personal article from someone he had been courting for such a short time? Of course, it had been offered by Miss Pomfrey, so no one could blame Mister Dumbledore, it would be rude to refuse, and ruin her honor. He didn't have to carry it around all the day long, though, so close to his heart? Why, it was simply unthinkable!  
  
Spring came around eventually, and they were seen together, with a great party of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, usually, bowling on the lawn or sitting out in the courtyards, studying. Mary Goshorn, a Hufflepuff, was very musical, and they spent many hours in an inter-house drawing room, with her at the piano and singing. Paulettina Flowers ran about sketching everything she came across, all the people she visited with, and her drawings were admired with much praise by everyone who was so fortunate as to see them.  
  
Paulettina Farrows was another object of discussion. Everyone was well aware of the attachment between herself and Mister Dumbledore. Why did he not court her? He was obviously quite fond of her, and she was pretty and rich, much more so in both cases than Poppy Pomfrey. The most common reason people found for his avoiding her obvious affection towards him was Nicholas Flamel. Mister Flamel obviously had an attachment with Miss Farrows as well, but had never acted upon it, to anyone's knowledge. Perhaps he was promised to someone else, or perhaps Miss Farrows had refused his advances (of which they were certain numbered many).  
  
All in all, it was a lovely courtship. They were a handsome couple, discreet, yet intimate, and both very good dancers. Everyone was swept up in their love (though it had not been declared...Yet), and spoke of how lucky they were to have found each other. The teachers and their wives all sat together on the Saturday night balls and watched them dance. The teachers who were still bachelors were all a bit forlorn for awhile, for they all had had their eye on Miss Pomfrey since the end of her sixth year, and now she was taken, but they would return to the dance floor to dance with one of the other seventh years and forget all about Miss Pomfrey.  
  
  
One lovely day towards the end of April, Gabriella came into the dormitory with a very haughty look on her face, and smugly sat down next to Poppy, making a big show of it. Poppy immediately felt nervous, for Gabriella had been very cold with her since she and Albus had begun courting.  
  
"How is Mister Dumbledore?" Gabriella asked, taking out her earrings.  
  
"He is very well," Poppy replied, trying once again to get her hair in order.  
  
"Such a pity you took his offer up so quickly, Poppy, for you could have gotten much more for yourself had you waited only a few more weeks."  
  
"Pray, what do you mean?"  
  
"Dearest, dearest Poppy," Gabriella sighed, turning and looking at her, "Professor Lawrence Green informed me that he had long held you in his affections, and would have written a letter of his intentions, had you not run off with Mister Dumbledore."  
  
"Professor Green?" Poppy asked, "He never made any sort of comment that would have suggested his feelings were thus."  
  
"Oh, he is a very discreet man," Gabriella leaned forward, "But he had fancied you for the longest time, and I dare say his heart rather broke when you began your courtship with Mister Dumbledore."  
  
"Why did he disclose this information to you, and not to myself, then, Gabriella?" Poppy asked, keeping her face straight, for she knew Gabriella was trying to intimidate her.  
  
"Well," Gabriella's face took on the smug look again, "Broken hearts heal quickly. He just   
informed me of the transfer of his affections from yourself to...Me."  
  
The last word was spoken so lightly, but its effect was monstrous. Poppy dropped her comb and looked over at Gabriella in wide-eyed amazement.  
  
"Has he proposed then?"   
  
"No, we are just beginning our own courtship, though, I daresay it may end in marriage," Gabriella smiled at the look on Poppy's face, "To think you could have had him for your own. He is a very handsome man, you know, and very rich, by his own means, not by inheritance."  
  
"I am quite satisfied with my own conquest," Poppy replied coldly, "And I am very happy for you, dearest Gabriella. However a man may obtain his money is a private matter, and to me, it is no matter at all, for I would own my affections to a man I had vowed to love forever whether he were the king of the world or a beggar in the streets."  
  
Poppy stood and quickly left the dormitory, shutting the door noiselessly behind her.  
  
  
"There you are!" Albus cried, seeing Poppy, and running over, "How are you?"  
  
"I am very well," Poppy smiled and took his arm, "And yourself?"  
  
"Wonderful, now that you are here," Albus said.  
  
Poppy turned a little pink and they set off on their usual Saturday afternoon walk around the grounds, accompanied, of course, by a house elf by the name of Thempa, who scuttled along behind them. Poppy could not help the fluttering in her stomach. As used to Albus' endless flattery, she still felt foolish and illogical whenever she was around him. She had always felt that way about him, since their first year. Smiling to herself, she remembered that first day of term when she was eleven.  
  
//Poppy hurried with her new friends down to the greenhouses. Her long, curly hair bounced about her shoulders, glinting in the sunlight. Next to her, Gabriella Patil, a rather skinny girl who seemed very spoiled, walked, talking endlessly. Poppy did not pay much attention, only hurried through the greenhouse door.   
They joined their fellow Hufflepuffs, all in gray with yellow embroidery and lace. Her attention, however, was immediately drawn to the Gryffindor crowd. They seemed to be a very happy group, for they all had smiles on their faces, and they all were joking and laughing. She liked them very much already. She looked and saw, at the center of the all the attention, a young man with light brown hair. Looking past him, she saw a very pretty girl with dark brown hair and eyes.   
Standing just beyond her was another boy that captured Poppy's attention immediately. He was not joking and laughing with the rest of the crowd. He was not sulking or being dull, but examining one of the plants, a rich purple flower with a very long stem. Poppy watched him as he pulled the petals apart with his long fingers. He had bright red hair, and was very tall and skinny. She was captivated by his serious aura, his maturity.  
"Albus!" The boy with the light brown hair called.  
The red-haired boy turned around. Poppy felt as if her stomach had dropped to the ground. His eyes were the most intense, sparkling, clear blue, the exact color of the sky visible through the glass roof.  
"Yes?" He said.  
"Come tell everyone about that incident in the dormitory last night!"  
Albus moved into the center and began to talk, but not loud enough for Poppy to hear. They were interrupted by the entrance of Professor Parlhod, but for the rest of the day, indeed, the rest of the year, Poppy could not get the vision of that boy out of her head. //  
  
Poppy had watched, in silence, as he grew up. She was an outsider, and she seriously doubted he ever noticed her, even with all the Herbology lessons they had together. He had not become less gangly, though his body had widened a little into a manly broadness. His hair had darkened into a rich auburn color, but his eyes were still just as radiant, just as luminous, and his mind was even more brilliant than ever.  
"Are you sure you are all right?" Albus asked, startling Poppy from her thoughts  
"Yes," She replied, "I was just thinking."  
"About what?"  
"Nothing important." 


	12. Part 12

Part Twelve  
  
"Ahhhhhhh...Let us see, my boy, we shall find a ring to sit upon her finger that is fit for a queen!" Lord Dumbledore exclaimed, "What does she fancy? Rubies? Opals? Sapphires? Whatever it is, we shall find it and she shall love it!"  
  
"Father, I think she rather prefers something plain and simple, for that is her manner," Albus returned, stiffly.  
  
"NONSENSE MY BOY!" Lord Dumbledore roared, "That is what they all would say, but I know women better than you think and they want something gaudy and ridiculous."  
  
"No, Father, I really think..." Albus sighed for he knew the argument was hopeless, "Just allow me to make the final decisions, please? In fact, why do you not let me go out and buy it on my own? I will take the carriage and a footman, so I will have an escort. Or I will walk, for the streets can get narrow at points and I do not wish to run anyone over."  
  
Lord Dumbledore could not argue with this, so Albus set out from their London home with Harold, towards Diagon Alley.  
  
"Honestly, Harold, what has gotten into my father?" Albus asked.  
  
"He is simply overly excited, as one could only reasonably expect," Harold replied.  
  
They passed many acquaintances on the roads of London, Muggle and Wizarding, and Albus was required to stop and chat. It was near an hour before they finally reached the entrance to Diagon Alley. Albus tapped the bricks, and they entered into the busy street. On Diagon Alley there were even more acquaintances to acknowledge, and when they finally reached Fallancourth's jewelry, Albus was frustrated and impatient. Harold opened the door for him, and he entered.  
  
The shop was a small one, and the glass cases about it were filled with the finest jewelry in   
the world. Stones of all shapes and sizes, sparkling in the sun that poured through the windows. Albus, seeing that all the attendants were occupied, was just sitting when a young man bumped his shoulder.  
  
"Oh my dear sir!" The other man cried, "Excuse me!"  
  
Albus caught his balance, "It is quite all right, sir, do not worry...Professor Green?"  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" Professor Green shook his hand, though there was a very foul look on his face, "It is so pleasing to see you here."  
  
"And you as well, are you here on business?" Albus asked.  
  
"Yes, unfortunately, it calls..." Professor Green looked at his watch, "Right this moment. I must be gone."  
  
And he shook Albus' hand again and was gone.  
  
"Is that the insufferable Muggle Studies professor that you speak so fondly of?" Harold asked in a sarcastic voice as they sat.  
  
"Yes, that would be him," Albus replied, "He is now courting Miss Pomfrey's friend, Miss Gabriella Patil. Supposedly, Miss Pomfrey quite broke his heart when she started to court me, but Professor Green is without a doubt cured of that, for I think I saw a parcel in his hand, probably a gift for Miss Patil."  
  
"I would not be so sure," Harold said.  
  
Albus looked at him with amazement, but Harold folded his hands over his cane and looked straight ahead.  
  
"Are you daring to suggest," Albus said, "That Professor Green still holds Miss Pomfrey in any sort of intimate regard? It would be absolutely absurd for him to propose to her when it is so obvious I am going to myself!"  
  
Harold remained impassive.  
  
"What have you heard, Harold, you must tell me for it is a matter of extreme importance!"  
  
Harold sighed, and said, "I tell you this as a friend, Mister Dumbledore. As you know, your parents receive much company in your absence, and just when your courtship began, the Greens stayed for a week and a half."  
  
"Professor Green's parents, you mean?" Albus said, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Yes, and they spoke of their son, very fond of him they are, they dote on him horribly," Harold lowered his voice, "He is rather spoiled, and they told that he had grown increasingly fond of one of his students, a seventh-year Hufflepuff by the name of Pomfrey. Your mother then exclaimed that that was the very same girl you were now courting. They agreed, and became very serious, for they told your parents how heartbroken Professor Green was by it."  
  
"I do remember that he left for a few days in mid-January," Albus mused, "Though I did not think it would be for such a reason as that!"  
  
"They all agreed that there would be absolutely no hostile feelings between the four of them, though I can not say the same for you and Professor Green, I think he rather despises you."  
  
"But he is courting Miss Patil!"  
  
"It would be a great disgrace, if he were to propose to Miss Pomfrey after courting her friend for so long, but be very aware of him, Albus."  
  
They were able to converse no longer, as they saw an attendant was free. They set out choosing a ring, designing it to what Albus hoped would be to Poppy's liking, for he had no doubt in his mind that she was the perfect girl for him.  
  
  
"Albus, what is the matter?" Poppy asked, "You look so very grave. Is your mother ill? I know you spoke of her being so last time you came from London, is it so now?"  
  
"No," Albus replied, "She is quite well, they have returned to Drakelane to enjoy the weather, the breezes revitalize my mother so."  
  
He swallowed and reached his hand into his pocket, where he fingered the small ring.  
  
"Well, what was it you wanted to talk about, without a chaperone?" Poppy added in a severe voice, for she did not approve of being unchaperoned after their first meeting.  
  
Albus was silent for some time, and just sat looking at her. She was wearing a new dress of lavender, and looked as lovely as ever. They were sitting on a stone bench against the far wall of a courtyard which was overgrown with ivy. The walls were tall and majestic, the stones on the ground cracked and growing over with moss. A fountain in the middle of large flowers was devoid of any water, but Albus did not mind, for he did not want any sound to disturb him. He gently slid his hand forward and closed it over Poppy's, and took her other hand, and kissed her fingers gently.  
  
"Albus," Poppy said in a hesitant, warning tone.  
  
"Yes?" He looked up at her.  
  
She withdrew her hands slowly, "What did you want to tell me?"  
  
He reached past her retreating hand to her neck, pulled himself closer to her, and kissed her.   
  
Poppy's first idea was, once again, to pull back and slap him hard across the face...No, that would be foolish for such moments of solitude as this were so rare that she dared not pass up the chance of it never happening again. She slowly closed her hand around his wrist and kissed him back, her romantic ideals taking hold of her, and the love which she had so strongly felt urging her forward. What could she want more? This young man, whom she had loved since she had first seen him in Herbology seven years before...And now he was kissing her...He loved her, Albus Dumbledore loved her...  
  
"Albus!" She cried, suddenly pulling away.  
  
"What?" He asked.  
  
She blushed, "What is the meaning of this? It is improper and I will have no part of it."  
  
She stood and turned away.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Albus looked incredulous, and took her hand again.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore!" Poppy snatched her hand out of his, "Unless you have something to tell me, I will leave this instant and never speak to you again in any intimacy! You have shown yourself thus to be a gentleman, but this sort of private affair leaves much to be desired! Now, do you have something to tell me or not?"  
  
Albus smiled up at her furious face, took her hand and said, "Of course. I love you."  
  
It was so blunt. Expected, but blunt. Poppy had fashioned in her mind a passionate monologue declaring his undying affections for her in such eloquent language, with him on one knee, his hands held up to her, his face reflecting long years of restrained love...  
  
"I love you too, Albus," Poppy breathed, "I have loved you for so long..."  
  
"How long?" Albus asked, leading her by her hand to sit before him again.  
  
Poppy blushed, and then said, "Since our first Herbology lesson."  
  
"So not so much longer than I have," Albus smiled, "You have loved me for perhaps ten months, and I have loved you for perhaps four."  
  
Poppy blushed deeper and said, "No. I mean, since our first Herbology lesson ever."  
  
Albus' eyes got very wide and he stammered, "So long! How have you remained so devoted for so long?"  
  
"I do not actually know," Poppy seemed to frown and smile at once, "But it does not matter, does it?"  
  
Albus smiled, shook his head. Then, they embraced again in that wondeful fervent, passionate way that young lovers do.  
  
  
No one else knew about what had happened in the old courtyard, and though Poppy's fingers were quite undecorated, she expected that soon would change. She heard reports that Albus Dumbledore had been seen in Diagon Alley at Fallancourth's Jewelry store, and had spent nearly three hours and a half with an attendant, though no one saw the results of the time, though it was rumored that he had arrived out of the store with a small package about the size of a box to hold a ring. Poppy grew giddy every time she thought of it. She had no idea that all her good fortune was soon to change.  
  
  
The day after Albus' declaration, when Poppy and the other girls returned to the common room, Gabriella was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"I wager she is out with Professor Green," Fanny Donald said, "A moonlight stroll, perhaps?"  
  
"No," Delilia shook her head, "That is too..."  
  
"Lewd," Poppy finished up, "And she would have told us if she was going anywhere, you know how Gabriella loves to tell everyone everything about herself and Professor Green."  
  
The other girls nodded in agreement. They all went to bed, but Poppy stayed up in the common room, reading. At one o'clock in the morning, Gabriella returned. She looked up in surprise when she saw Poppy.  
  
"You are up late," Poppy said, putting down her book.  
  
"As are you," Gabriella returned.  
  
"Pray, Gabriella," Poppy stood, for Gabriella looked as though she were going to return to the dormitory, "Where have you been?"  
  
"That is none of your conern." 


	13. Part 13

Part 13  
  
Woe. It is an odd word, and perhaps one of the most dreaded in the English language. It has not the dramatics of tragedy or misery, or the politeness of sadness, nor even the harsh quality which comes with words such as calamity and heartbreak. Woe simply expresses the most horrid part of a tragedy, a heartbreak. It has a dragging feel, a smothering quality, and the painful, slow-healing ache of the heart that comes with calamity. Woe is avoided at all costs, but it is a clever spirit and tends to get in the way of everything that seems to be going right, for creating chaos and anguish is its favorite pastime.  
  
Gabriella spent more and more nights out and away from the common room. She never gave any sort of clue as to where she went, or who she spent her nights with. Gradually, she was out until dawn, and sometimes did not appear until breakfast, or even the first lesson of the day. Poppy could not help but feel that Gabriella was getting herself into danger, for she had no doubt that Professor Green was behind these late-night escapades.  
  
Quite suddenly, in late May, Gabriella was gone from Hogwarts, reportedly home. This was quite a shock to all, and they received no letters from her informing them of her whereabouts, so they were left to ponder. Poppy was quite concerned, and made up her mind to visit her the coming weekend, though she had promised to spend it with Albus at Drakelane. She wrote Albus a note and went to the Patil home in London.  
  
She was accepted warmly, as always, and, after giving her small luggage to the footman, went straight up to Gabriella's room. Poppy found her friend in a terrible state. She was dressed nicely, but rumpled, her hair hung loose about her shoulders, her face streaked with tears, her eyes puffy and red, and if she had been recovering from a fit of sobs when Poppy walked in, it did no good. Upon seeing Poppy, Gabriella burst into a fresh torrent of tears and flung herself upon the bed.  
  
"Oh dearest Gabriella!" Poppy cried, running to her, "Oh dearest what is the matter?"  
  
Gabriella mouthed wordlessly, still sobbing hysterically.  
  
"Please, a glass of water with lemon," Poppy said to the servant who had looked in. She turned back to Gabriella and, sitting next to her on the bed, took her hand and held them silently. The servant brought the water, and closed the door behind her.  
  
"Now, then, sit up," Poppy said. She helped Gabriella up onto her pillows, and put the water to her lips. "Now tell me what ails you, dearest, for you have had us all in a fright back at school, what with running off with no notice."  
  
Gabriella put down the glass, which was now empty except for the slice of lemon, and, hiccuping, said, "I am going away to the country and you shall never hear of me again for I have been disgraced from all decent society."  
  
Poppy started on hearing such news, "What is the matter? Surely, nothing so horrible that it can not be amended!"  
  
"No, it can not, for it is a permanent burden upon my shoulders for the rest of my life. I am not worthy of having someone such as you help me."  
  
"Oh, do not be ridiculous," Poppy said, "You get into this sort of state all the time, Gabriella, and it is always over nothing. Tell me, what is the matter?"  
  
Gabriella took a deep breath and said, "I am with child."  
  
Poppy gasped. With child? Gabriella? Never! Yet...Perhaps...No, that would be a disgrace to society...Oh, no...  
  
"Oh no!" Poppy exclaimed, "But...Who? Not Professor Green!"  
  
Gabriella nodded, and a new flood of tears escaped her.  
  
"Oh what a vile human he is! I suspect he will have nothing to do with you now?"  
  
Again a nod.  
  
"Unworthy dog! To go and be so...Intimate with one of his own students!"  
  
"He seduced me!" Gabriella choked through her sobs, "He was always buying me gifts. He gave me a beautiful necklace of pearls, and he seduced me with his money and I was so low as to go to him and..."  
  
"Do not speak of it dear, only rest, for that will make you feel better," Poppy said, clucking over her as Madame Corlow did, "Rest, and be calm, and you will feel better."  
  
Poppy cast a simple spell upon Gabriella, who soon fell to sleep, and the Poppy was left with her own thoughts. She returned to the chamber she would occupy, and, sitting in a chair, she gazed out the window with her chin in her hand, as she always did.  
  
First, there was, of course, the initial shock to get over. Gabriella certainly would disappear from good society, for she was not even properly engaged to Professor Green, otherwise it could have been concealed in a wedding and then announced, and all would not think less of her. However, she had been courting Professor Green for only a little over a month and she had gone to him...Poppy shuddered...And then felt compassion for Gabriella, who only wanted attention (perhaps too much at times), and was so blind to reality at times...And she had been taken advantage of by a professor.  
  
Professor Green would likely find himself disgraced as well. He would be fired from his job and turned away by any who had once thought him a decent man...Unless he married into a respectable family, then it would all be looked over and everyone would forget that he had a love child growing up in the country, unaware that her father was living in some large estate with two hunters and a barouche. How unfair life was! How unfair and deceitful! Gabriella, in her youthful naïveté, made one simple mistake that cost her dignity, reputation, and honor.  
  
What would her parents do? Likely, they would come up with a story that she was studying privately abroad, and Poppy hated them for that too. They should go with her, if they did send her abroad, and take care of her, she was, after all, their daughter. They could completely leave behind the society of England and go live in France or Italy. Yet they would remain here, for sake of their reputation, which would be tarnished no matter what they said, and Poppy felt resentment towards them.  
  
Her thoughts wandered to herself. Would Albus use her in such a crass way? No, never, for though Albus had shown his affections to her in a way that was nowhere near proper, he had never come close to even suggesting such intimacy as...Poppy shook herself. No, not all of the men in the world were such dogs as Professor Green. She set her heart against him too, for he was handsome and rich and horrid.  
  
With these thoughts in her mind, Poppy decided that sleep was in order and rested for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
  
Upon returning to Hogwarts, Poppy instantly was sought out by many and questioned about Gabriella's whereabouts. Poppy refused to answer any more than that Miss Patil was going abroad to study after an unfortunate family tragedy. This was not satisfactory, but she refused to speak any more and became quite indifferent to any interrogator who cornered her. She was not surprised to see that Professor Green was gone, temporarily replaced by an affable man by the name of Rockbeam, and assumed that he had resigned. She was surprised when she heard that Professor Green had taken a holiday to return home. Poppy thought this was all very curious, and found her only comfort now in the company of Albus, who held her so tenderly that she felt her heart would burst for her love of him and her sorrow of Gabriella's misfortune.  
  
  
Poppy held very still, but she could not keep the smile off her face. Her fingers tugged at the grass she was sitting on. Her eyes were fixed on the rippling water of the lake before her. In the distance, students strolled the grounds, girls in ruffled dresses with equally ruffley parasols, and the young men in their coolest afternoon attire, for the weather had become very hot. It was all very charming, and down on the side of one small knoll, Paulettina was seen sketching. A few people were gathered around her, watching as her artistic hand swept back and forth across the paper, making admiring comments softly to each other, not wanting to disturb the artist.  
  
"Now hold still," Albus said softly. There was a gentle tug at the nape of Poppy's neck, and Albus whispered a charm. The tug was released, and when she turned around, Albus held a lock of her black hair in his hand. Albus had a ring, a family heirloom, that was actually a small display case on a band. He opened this and placed the lock inside before snapping it quietly shut again.  
  
"Are you satisfied now?" Poppy asked, feigning indignation.  
  
"Yes, thank you, and we can all be happy now," Albus said, taking her hand and helping her up.  
  
At this remark, however, Poppy closed her eyes slowly and turned towards the lake. She meandered slowly down towards the water, staring at her reflection, and then back up into the shade, where it was cooler and Albus was leaning against a tree, a look of pity upon his features.  
  
"You know that there is nothing you can do," Albus said, "Gabriella will away and we will   
never hear of her again. I do wish you would tell me why, though."  
  
Poppy shook her head, "I was told in an understanding of confidence, and though Gabriella and I had become aloof with each other before her leave, I shall not betray her for the world."  
  
"Love, you are so stubborn sometimes that I find it frustrating."  
  
"I am sorry, but I can not."  
  
"At least you know that you will always own my affections. You do know that?"  
  
Poppy looked on him imploringly, "You are so droll sometimes, Albus, that I quite am at a loss as what to do with you. Of course I know that you love me! You tell me incessantly every day, on our walks, in the halls, during class, at luncheon. I could not doubt it for the world, and I could not doubt it, even if you told me it was not so."  
  
"How do you suppose that?"  
  
"I would think that only a great secret involving life and death would drive you to tell me that you do not love me, for your eyes betray your lips sometimes, and when you say you are angry you are pleased, and when you say your are happy you are really melancholy. So it is only natural that I should believe when you say you do not love me, that you do, for it would be in your eyes."  
  
The sky-blue orbs sparkled with the smile, "You are very observant. I wish your eyes betrayed you so, for then I could know you better, but you are so good at guarding your true feelings from everyone."  
  
"Every woman is, we are taught it from the time we are born," Poppy said, "If we let out our true feelings, there would be no society to the world."  
  
"I suppose," Albus leaned against a tree trunk, "But I still wish you would tell me-"  
  
He stopped speaking and looked out over to the other edge of the lake. Poppy turned and   
followed his gaze, and saw Nicholas, who had grown another six inches in the past year, holding a piece of parchment in one hand, and a quill in the other, jumping up and down wildly and yelling Albus' name. Albus and Poppy hurried over.  
  
"Albus! Albus!" Nicholas exclaimed, taking no notice of Poppy, "I have it! I have it!"  
  
"You have what?" Albus asked, puzzled.  
  
"Look at this," Nicholas thrust the parchment under his nose, "Look. While you have been out here courting, I have spent many long hours locked up in the study doing more research. I have been looking for something that will make the liquid solidify, for you know that would be the last ingredient. I needed something light, so as not to disturb the milk of elephant ear and the powdered granite."  
  
"What is it then?"  
  
Nicholas presented the quill, which, Poppy now saw, was not a quill, but a plain feather.  
  
"A feather?" Albus said in a dull voice.  
  
"Not just any feather!" Nicholas cried, "A raven feather!"  
  
Albus suddenly looked enlightened, "Of course! Because if you steam that with the milk of elephant ear and powdered granite-"  
  
"-The infusion-"  
  
"-And the crushed fig-"  
  
"-And it will all gather together-"  
  
"-And then it will solidify!" They exclaimed together.  
  
"How stupid we have been!" Albus clapped a hand to his forehead, "How stupid! I have ignored my research and all the time it was as simple as a raven feather!"  
  
"I do hate to be a burden," Poppy broke in, "But may I inquire as to what exactly is going   
on?"  
  
The two boys turned on her, Nicholas with a look of surprise, as though he hadn't seen her standing there.  
  
"I am sorry darling," Albus said, "But I must go now straight to Professor Finch's room."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Albus and Nicholas bowed and turned.  
  
"Albus!"   
  
Albus turned and jogged backwards up the lawn, "I will explain at dinner I promise!"  
  
  
Albus, however, did not appear at dinner, and neither did Nicholas. Poppy asked Paulettina, who said that she had not seen them since luncheon. So, after dinner, Poppy made her way down to their Potions classroom. As she walked down the steps, she noticed that the air was rather hazy, and there was a smell of burning. The smoke got thicker the further she went down, until she reached the classroom door, where it was pouring out in great billows.  
  
She coughed, knocked, and entered.  
  
Albus and Nicholas stood over a cauldron which was emitting the great puffs of smoke,   
and Professor Finch was sitting nearby, watching, his eyes wide. The two boys looked absolutely ecstatic as they stared into the cauldron, breathing hard, sweat pouring down their very red faces, and they were only in their shirts, their robes and jackets having been discarded on the floor.  
  
"Albus?" Poppy said.  
  
Albus looked up, "Poppy! How did you get in?"  
  
"The door was open," She said, bowing to Professor Finch, who had jumped up and bowed deeply after noticing her.  
  
"Oh dear," Albus went and shut it, "We can not have anyone entering. You can stay though."  
  
"Are you sure, Mister Dumbledore?" Professor Finch said, "After all, this is to be kept very secret."  
  
"Miss Pomfrey is excellent at keeping secrets," Albus said smiling, "Come watch, it is in its last stage now."  
  
"What?" She asked, making her away around the desks towards the cauldron, which stood on a table. The table was covered in parchment, quills, and leather-bound books, and as she could see nothing but the smoke in the cauldron, Poppy turned to these papers in interest. On them were hundreds of notes in Albus' and Nicholas' handwriting, diagrams, pictures, all very messy and blotted, occasionally completely scratched out.  
  
"Of course!" She exclaimed, "The Sorcerer's Stone! I had completely forgotten about it, for you had never spoken of it."  
  
"What else would make him leave you?" Nicholas said, speaking for the first time, "You   
practically own him now."  
  
Poppy did not answer, only looked into the cauldron. It was growing very hot, and she wished that she could take off her outer layers and especially her stays, which pinched her ribs and made it hard to breath, but that was impossible, so she dealt with it. The smoke was very thick now, and seemed to be getting darker. Poppy thought, in between gusts of it, that she saw something forming at the bottom of the cauldron, but then another puff and it was gone.  
  
They all jumped back as gold and black sparks began leaping from the cauldron. The smoke was so thick around them that they could hardly see, except for the light from the sparks, it was quite dark. The sparks became more numerous, and were reaching as high as the ceiling and a diameter of eight or ten feet, so that they all had to duck to avoid them.  
  
Suddenly, there was a great sucking sound, and all the smoke was pulled back into the cauldron. So violent was the wind that pulled it in that Poppy had to hold onto Albus and the table for support. Parchment flew everywhere, and an ink well spilled on Nicholas' shirt. Poppy feared that they would be sucked in as well, when it suddenly stopped. No smoke, no sparks. The cauldron was steaming faintly.  
  
Nicholas was first to recover, and stood slowly. He looked into the cauldron, then reached in with his hand. He jumped a little, and pulled his hand out. His fingertips were burnt. The others were now gathered around too. Nicholas reached in again, and pulled out something around which his large had was closed. When he unfolded his fingers, there lay in his palm a blood-red stone.  
  
"Amazing," Albus breathed, "We have done it!"  
  
And then it was a moment of rejoicing. They all grasped each other in hugs and tears and exclamations of upmost joy. They were geniuses, the brilliant minds of the two eighteen-year-old boys had finally discovered the solution. All of the thousands of years of research, the ancient art of alchemy had finally been solved, and the result was there before them. The stone in Nicholas' hand gave the greatest power that any mortal could ask for.  
  
"Wait!" Professor Finch said suddenly, "Should we not test it?"  
  
"You are right," Nicholas said, "Do you have something small?"  
  
Professor Finch went to rummage in his desk, and returned with a small metal flask. Nicholas touched the stone to the flask. From where the stone touched, a golden spot grew, slowly, then spread out over it, until the entire flask was...Gold.  
  
"We shall try its other attributes some other time," Albus said in a low voice, "For now...Let us go inform Professor Golander. The Daily Prophet will have a field day." 


	14. Part 14

Part 14  
  
Albus and Nicholas were called away to London for a week after the news got out that they had finally created the Sorcerer's Stone.   
  
"I shall be back in no time, you will not even miss me, for Paulettina will keep you company," Albus had told Poppy when they said good-bye, "Do not fret."  
  
Poppy did not reply, only took his hand. He gently pressed her own, and, seeing the ring on his finger, she felt better. And then he climbed into the carriage with Nicholas and they went away.  
  
"Come, Miss Pomfrey," Paulettina said, taking her arm, "Do not be melancholy."  
  
The two of them spent much of their time together that week, studying in the library and spending their free time strolling the grounds. Poppy frequently came close to telling Paulettina about Gabriella, but then withdrew, for she knew it would not be honorable. Paulettina did not try and force it out of her, and for this reason Poppy liked her very much.  
  
On the Friday after the boys had left, Poppy and Paulettina were laughing over a private joke on the way to Muggle Studies. They recieved a bit of a shock when, on walking in, Professor Green stood there behind his desk.  
  
"Ladies," He bowed, smiling, "How very pleasant to see you again."  
  
They were startled, but managed to collect themselves enough to incline their heads. There were no other students in the class yet, so Poppy, after regaining herself, and feeling only a cold-hearted hatred towards the handsome young man before her, took the opportunity to inquire after him.  
  
"Pray, what business called you away from us for so long, Professor?" She asked.  
  
"It was family business, of a private matter," Professor Green returned, "I am truly not at liberty to speak of it Miss Pomfrey."  
  
Poppy nodded, but privately thought that he must know that she knew all about his   
misdemeanors. He had a very smug look on his face that made her uneasy, and so she returned o her seat without asking further.  
  
When class began, he looked around, smiling broadly at them all, "I am very pleased to be back in the school once more," He said, "And now we begin our lessons where we left off, unless Professor Rockbeam got you past chapter eleven in the books?"  
  
They nodded slowly in assent. Poppy did not like the way that his brown eyes kept flickering over in her direction, and throughout the lesson, every time he regarded her, there seemed a bit of arrogance and pride that she had not noticed before. Perhaps it was not there. While they were reading from the books and taking notes, Professor Green constantly opened a drawer in his desk, and would reach his hand towards it, touching it delicately, lovingly. Poppy was startled, at first, thinking it was the Sorcerer's Stone, but then realized that that would be impossible; Nicholas had taken it with him to London. Her fear was replaced by hope, hope that it was maybe a miniature of Gabriella, or he had a lock of her hair, as Albus did her's.  
  
This renewed her faith slightly. Perhaps Professor Green was not a blackgaurd, and perhaps he meant to act honorably and take care of Gabriella. Smiling at the thought, Poppy returned to her work with uplifted spirits, only to have the dashed away.  
  
The bell rang, and they all stood and bowed. Poppy was gathering her things and preparing to leave with Paulettina when Professor Green said, "Miss Pomfrey, a word if you please?" He looked at Paulettina, "Privately?"  
  
"Yes, Professor," Poppy replied, and then quietly to Paulettina, "Do not wait for me, only tell Professor Finch that I will be late."  
  
Paulettina nodded, threw a puzzled glance at Professor Green, and then left. Poppy turned on Professor Green, who was lounging in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. This was highly improper, but Poppy, not wanting to reprimand him, still hoping that he would have good news for her, simply stood on the other side of the desk. For some minutes, even past the second bell, Professor Green only smiled up at her.  
  
"Professor Green, I am already late. Pray, what business do you have with me?" She finally asked.  
  
"A very personal business," He replied. For another moment, he was silent, and then said, "I suppose you know about Miss Patil's condition?"  
  
"Yes," Poppy clenched her jaw, trying very hard not to let her fury get the best of her.  
  
"Well, though it is shameful business indeed, I suppose you know the order of society."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Professor Green stood, and said, "If I marry a girl of a respectable name, I will have no crime against me, and Miss Patil will simply be considered a hussey."  
  
"Professor Green, do check your language," Poppy could not restrain herself.  
  
"My business in town these last few days has been of a family matter. My parents were   
enraged with my misconduct, as is understandable. They told me that, with the most possible urgency, before any news of Miss Patil's condition got out into society, that I should find myself a wife with a good reputation, in order to save myself and them."  
  
Poppy felt her stomach jump into her throat. She was aware of the sweat on her forehead, adn the way her hand convulsively clutched at her books.  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked slowly, trying to keep her voice from trembling.  
  
"Well, of course, Miss Patil was a very arrogant girl," Professor Green began, "She wanted to be in every other persons' business, and have everyone in her own. No doubt that she flew down to your common room the moment I informed her that I would like to court her to brag to you. I had told her how I had loved you - "  
  
His voice broke as though by a sob, but there were no tears. For the first time, the smug mask seemed to break and was replaced by longing and pain. Poppy could not help but pity him. He had just professed his love to her, and she felt nothing in return but contempt. Professor Green stood slowly.  
  
"However," He regained his composure, "I thought that the wounds deep in my heart could heal with the tender affections of Miss Patil. And they began to, somewhat. I had loved you for such a long time that, at first, it seemed in vain - "  
  
"How long," It was not a question, but a demand, for Poppy could not help but ask.  
  
"Since the last day of your sixth year," A dreamy look came into the Professor's eyes, "We   
were all running about, saying good-bye. And I had just walked in the front door when I looked up and saw you on the top of the grand staircase. You were wearing an afternoon dress of the lovliest shade of blue, my particular favorite color. And as I opened the door, the afternoon sunlight fell right upon your lovely form, illuminating your face, and I felt as though my insides had fizzled away to nothing, and I could hardly stand for how much I loved you at that moment. I have a staircase much like that one at my own estate, in my mansion-house, and I pictured you standing upon it, smiling on me as your husband and lover, rather than as your professor as you did then."  
  
Poppy closed her eyes very hard, wishing with all her might it was not so. Why did this man, this man who she thought no better than the most vile of criminals, love her? It should not be so!  
  
"I have kept it deeply hidden, these past eleven months or so, for I did not know how to approach you. I could not ask you to be alone with me, for fear I would pull you into my arms and never let you free, so unrestrained was my passion. I doubt you noticed it," And here the dreamy look came out of his eyes and he looked very evilly at her indeed, "But whenever I passed you in the corridors, or stood over your shoulder on the pretext of examining your work, when truly I was only trying to get a little closer to you..." He took deep breaths and grabbed the edge of his desk, as though steadying himself, "I had to do everything within my power to restrain myself until you were of a proper age, until your eighteenth birthday, which was over the holidays. I did not percieve that a very ignorant young man would stand in my way."  
  
Poppy did not know what to do with herself, so intense were her emotions that she could barely stand. She turned away and went to the window, where she looked out over the grounds. She did not look at Professor Green's face, though she could feel his pain and his sorrow filling the air about her. She heard his footsteps coming closer, and then felt his hands upon her arms. Poppy started, but did not turn around.  
  
"Dearest - " He began.  
  
"Do not address me with such intimacy until I have given you my consent," Poppy said shortly.  
  
He pulled on her arm and whirled her around, looking at her furiously, "I do not need your consent...Darling."  
  
She wanted to slap him. More than anything she wanted to slap him, but he held her arm in so tight a grip that she could not move. She only looked straight ahead at his chest. She could see the sweat glistening on his neck.  
  
"My business these past few days," Professor Green whispered, "Was in London, and then in the country."  
  
Poppy closed her eyes and stopped resisting to his grip, for she felt all of her emotions disappear except for one : Utter and complete despair.  
  
"Your parents do not know of your courtship to Mister Dumbledore, do they?"  
  
"They know a little of it, though not much," Poppy replied in a faint voice, "I was waiting   
until the summer for him to come stay with us."  
  
"I thought as much. It was very pleasing to me, your prudence in this matter, for it made my goal only so much easier to reach. They were absolutely delighted, beyond all reason, and more than ready, to give their daughter to such an affable young man of such repute and fortune."  
  
Poppy could no longer restrain herself. She seemed to wilt into his arms, and fell into hysterics. More than anything, she wanted to hit him, hit him for ruining her life, but she was so weak that she could only make to hit him, and end up clutching at his jacket.   
  
Woe.  
  
He pulled her into his arms, a furious pride in his face, and, upon seeing that, she fainted. 


	15. Part 15

Part 15  
  
"You look terribly over-excited," Nicholas said, propping his feet up on the seat opposite him, next to Albus, "What are you so happy about returning for?"  
  
"I can not wait to see her," Albus replied. For the umpteenth time, he pulled back the curtain and looked out the window, "It bothers me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That they would not let us apparate. The Stone is at Gringott's, safely put away, and we both have been able to apparate for years."  
  
"You are an impatient man, Albus," Nicholas said, unbuttoning his vest, for the day was hot and the carriage stuffy.  
  
"When you are in love, you will understand."  
  
"I-" Nicholas began, but then silenced himself.  
  
Albus turned on him, his sky-blue eyes sparkling, "What? Are you in love? And you have not told me?"  
  
"No," Nicholas replied firmly, "I am not in love."  
  
"Nicholas, when are you going to admit to us all that you love Paulettina?"   
  
"Paulettina!" Nicholas looked amazed, "I? Love Paulettina?"  
  
"Well...Do you not?" Albus was confused.  
  
"No!" Nicholas exclaimed, "Paulettina! Never!" He collected himself a bit, and said, in a calmer voice, "Paulettina is a dear friend and I hold in her highest regard, but I have never felt anything more than that."  
  
Albus looked very grave, "Indeed. I have been fooling myself. I always thought that those admiring glances you threw upon her were more than just friendship."  
  
"Paulettina is the prettiest girl in school," Nicholas replied, "And though I do not deny that I admire her greatly and throw such looks on her, so does every other boy that meets her. She is endlessly sought-after."  
  
Albus would have inquired further, but then the carriage slowed to a stop. The footman opened the door, and they stepped out into the bright sunlight, the green grass under their boots, the trees, and on the castle steps was their dear friend looking beautiful in green and worried. She flew down the steps to meet them.  
  
"What is it?" Albus asked immediately.  
  
"Poppy is in the hospital wing," Paulettina said.  
  
"What?" Albus and Nicholas looked at each other, alarmed.  
  
They went straight up to her, Nicholas with his vest and jacket in his hands. The door to the infirmary was open, and as they stepped across the threshold, Albus saw her, in the far corner, laying asleep. He ran across the room to her, pulled up a chair, sat down, took her hand, and could not be persuaded by anyone to move for the rest of the afternoon. Nicholas and Paulettina checked in on him often, and he was still there, staring anxiously at her face. He would not eat, would not drink, and would not speak to anyone.   
  
At dawn she awoke. Albus had laid his auburn head down on her bed to sleep, and that was the first thing she saw. She reached out to touch him, and when the sky-blue eyes opened, she cried with the greatest misery in her voice, "Albus!" and the hysterics began again. The sobs drew Madame Corlow in, who scolded Albus for upsetting her, until finally Poppy calmed enough to beg Madame Corlow to leave them for a moment.  
  
"You do not know?" Poppy asked.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"He has made no announcement?"  
  
"No," Albus drew the chair closer, and taking his handkerchief out of his vest pocket, dabbed her face. Poppy pulled herself up into a sitting position.  
  
"It is almost too much for me to speak."  
  
"Poppy, Poppy," Albus stood, took her face and kissed her before saying, "What is it? Who is he? What has he done? Why are you so upset?"  
  
"Professor Green was courting Gabriella Patil."  
  
"Yes, of course, but what has that got to do with us?"  
  
"He was courting Gabriella because I had broken his heart."  
  
"You had broken-" Albus paused, "Did you court him?"  
  
"Never!" Poppy looked anguished, "Never! He had loved me, but never declared it to my face! And he told Gabriella, when I did not notice, and they began to court. And then one night, Gabriella went to him - "  
  
"She did no such thing!"   
  
"She did! Let me finish! She went to him and now is going abroad, for she is with child."  
  
Albus' face had no clear expression, but his eyes were very wide, his mouth hung open a little. Then, shaking himself, he said, "Even so. Gabriella will be sent abroad and Professor Green sent from society for he is disgraced. Nothing can prevent that! Why is it so upsetting to you? Professor Green is a cad and Gabriella...Has made an unfortunate mistake, but she will be happy abroad. If you might request Austria to her, I think she would like it very much - "  
  
"Professor Green's disgrace can be prevented," Poppy said in a quiet voice, "By marriage."  
  
Albus frowned, considered, and said, "Yes. True. So he will not be disgraced. I for one, however, will never consider him a friend or admirable again."  
  
"Albus would you stop being so droll!" Poppy nearly screamed, "He loved me, Albus! And he still does! You know I was waiting until summer to tell my parents officially of our courtship!"  
  
Albus, who was looking ready to protest, stopped, mouth open. Then, he sunk into the chair, swallowed. Looked , astounded, at Poppy, with her eyes full of tears, stood again, and ran as fast as he could out of the room.  
  
  
"Albus, what is it?" Nicholas, who had been just down the corridor when Albus came running out, grabbing his friend by the shoulder. Albus struggled, but Nicholas was much stronger, and pinned him against the wall.  
  
"What is that matter with you?" Nicholas said, holding Albus by his lapels, "What is the matter? Is Poppy okay?"  
  
"She is engaged," Albus said shortly, in a dark voice.  
  
"Why so angry?" Nicholas cried letting go, "This is a cause for celebration!"  
  
"Not to me, you idiot!" Albus roared, "To that bastard of a professor!"  
  
"Which one?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Green!"  
  
"Green! What about Gabriella?"  
  
"It is not important!" Albus yelled, "What is important is that right now he should die!"  
  
"Get a hold of yourself, Albus!" Nicholas shoved him up against the wall again, "You can not go off killing your professor! You must act rationally! Calmly!"  
  
There would have been more, if not for a burst of orange light. Nicholas was thrown   
against the opposite wall, and fell to the ground. Albus stormed off through the corridor.  
  
  
"Can I help you, Mister - " Professor Green did not get to finish his sentence. He found a wand in his face. The fourth years in the room looked at the two of them in terror.  
  
"So you know?"   
  
"Yes I know!" Albus yelled, "I know all to well! You blackguard!!"  
  
A gasp.  
  
"What are you going to do, Mister Dumbledore?" Professor Green asked, "Kill me? What good will that do? Will that get her back?"  
  
Albus glared at the dark brown eyes which tormented him. There was a muscle working in   
his jaw, his hand was shaking.  
  
"This is not like you to be so irrational," Professor Green continued, "I would suggest putting the wand down. You can not force me out of the engagement. It would be indecent."  
  
"More indecent than having a student come to you, and then proposing to her best friend to save your reputation?" Albus asked.  
  
The professor's color changed very pale, but he was focused on something over Albus' shoulder. Albus turned his head, and saw Professor Golander there.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore, put the wand down," Came Professor Golander's deep, gravely voice.  
  
"Why should I?" Albus replied, turning his furious face back to Professor Green, "What have I got to lose?"  
  
"Your place in this school? You will gain a place in Azkaban, though," Professor Golander said.  
  
"What does it matter? I have already lost the only thing I care about!"  
  
"Do you think that killing Professor Green will somehow get her back and you will not be   
put in jail?"  
  
Albus hesitated, and then lowered his arm.  
  
"Professor Green, Mister Dumbledore, close your eyes please," He said. Then, raising his   
wand, "Obliviate."  
  
The fourth-years all went very stiff, and then looked curiously at Albus and Professor Golander.  
  
"Mister Dumbledore, if you would come with me to my office." 


	16. Part 16

Part 16  
  
Albus was not expelled (how could they expel HIM?!?!), however, he was required to take Muggle Studies with a private tutor. His fury was soon replaced by the same anguish that Poppy felt. Nothing could console him. His parents were equally infuriated, for they had adored Poppy with all their hearts. Albus refused to enter into any negotiations of marriage to another woman, and claimed he would remain a bachelor all his life.  
  
"My love for Miss Pomfrey is too strong to every overcome," Albus told his parents, "Such is my love for her that she will never be replaced."  
  
School was ended, Albus graduated, and then went into the work world. He was made independent of his parents, but still lived in their home in London, for that was where his business with the Ministry was. Truthfully, he hoped one day to return to Hogwarts to teach, though not if Professor Green was still there.  
  
Albus also looked through the Daily Prophet every day, and, two weeks after graduation, found an announcement of their engagement. This he put away in his desk, along with the ring with Poppy's lock of hair, for he was determined not to linger on her too much. He received no letters from her, and had no doubt that Professor Green was in some way blocking any letters which she might have sent in secret.  
  
So Albus lived, in all his pain and misery, throwing himself into his work. His parents remained at Drakelane for the summer and fall, so he would not see them until winter. He did not entertain much company, for all knew his anguish and, curious as they were to inquire after it, they were not willing to enter into his home and recieve the cold hospitality with which he regarded everyone. He received many invitations to parties and balls, but feeling as though there was no entertainment in such pursuits, and he would not be happy dancing with anyone but Poppy, he did not attend any of them. From six in the morning until past midnight, he was either at the Ministry working, or scribbling away at his research. Society began to speak of him as their own personal tragedy, though few of them knew all the details, and those who did had enough integrity to not share them.  
  
So time passed. The weather became very hot, and the clothing of the people became lighter, and they sat about with sweat dewing their foreheads, drinking lemonade. Albus did not wish to see the green trees or hear the water in the fountains, and shut out the laughter and the carriages outside his home. He did not want to risk hearing her voice, or a voice that was somewhat like hers, nor to hear the news being passed along the street, for fear it would concern her. He removed his study to the attic, where there were no windows and it was cool and dark and dusty and he could pretend it was winter, as it was in his heart. His blood still ran and his brain still thought, yet he felt as though he were dead, and he had nothing to live for. He became thin and pale, and he knew, deep down that he was hurting only himself, and he also did not care. If Poppy were to burst in the door one day, he would run to her and be happy, but it was not so.  
  
Finally, one fine afternoon nearly a year later, there was a knock at the door of the study, where Albus was buried in his work.  
  
"What?" He said in a highly annoyed voice, turning around.  
  
"A Mr. Flamel to see you, sir."  
  
"What? Mr. Flamel? Where is he?" Albus leapt out of his seat.  
  
"In the drawing room sir," The servant said, looking scared, "Should I request that he come another time?"  
  
"Certainly not!" Albus cried, "I will go attend to him, and you will go down to the cellar, find the finest wine, and then we shall have a bit of a party, if it only has two guests."  
  
"Yes, sir," And the servant withdrew.  
  
Albus flew down the stairs and landed in the drawing room door. Nicholas was looking at the paintings, swinging a cane from one hand.  
  
"Nicholas Flamel!" Albus said, stepping into the room.  
  
Nicholas turned around, and smiled, "Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"How good to see you," Albus shook his hand, "Where have you been?"  
  
"Abroad."  
  
"Abroad! Where to, Nicholas, tell all."  
  
And so they sat for the afternoon talking, much as they did in their school days. Nicholas had been to France, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, and Spain. He told of his exploits in each place, of the people, the food, the music, the art. Everything about a place that was not dear England seemed to catch Nicholas' fancy.  
  
"I sense a change in you, Nicholas," Albus said, "What is it?"  
  
"Simply that I have become more knowledgeable about the outer world, Albus," Nicholas replied, "I know of a world beyond my spellbooks and my research. You should try it, you know. The reports I have heard since I have been in town are that you do not leave your work for a second. I have read some of your essays, and while they are top quality, I do suggest getting out more often."  
  
"Where to?"  
  
"Well, you might try your parents, first off. They have not seen you since graduation. Maybe I am suffering from lack of judgment but they might miss you, you know. You did not even go for Christmas!"  
  
"I do not wish to return to Drakelane at present. And how do you know if they miss me?"  
  
"Well I went to stay with them for a week."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Well yes. I am quite to them as their own son, you know. They consider me like a brother to you. But it is quite unfair, I am three hundred seventy-three years older than you, and yet you will not receive their hospitality, only take all their money, while I take all their hospitality and receive no money."  
  
"You have your own fortune," Albus rolled his eyes and poured another glass for them.  
  
"Or maybe you could try making some calls to your old school friends. Geoffrey lives barely four streets over and he has heard nothing of you but what is in the news."  
  
"The Daily Prophet, the London Times, both speak so highly of me, yet none of them have   
ever met me face to face."  
  
"Because you do not leave the house any more!" Nicholas exclaimed, "You look very pale indeed!"  
  
"Well what would you suggest, Nicholas?" Albus stood and went to the window, staring down at the busy street, "Breakfast parties? Musicals? Strolling in the town square and making conversation with people I hardly know, who inquire after my parents and my business when all they want to know about is my poor broken heart?"  
  
"Well you can not blame them! Even after all these months, your poor broken heart is still   
the main subject of conversation."  
  
"Well my poor broken heart is still just as broken," Albus gripped his glass very tightly, and then said, "I have no desire to socialize with such people."  
  
"You can not stay locked up forever!"  
  
"I can."  
  
"Have some sense, man!"  
  
"What would you have me do?"  
  
"Lady Kalmond is having a ball tonight. You are invited, you know," Nicholas showed Albus an invitation addressed to him, "And you should come. Come and drink champagne, dance...You have not danced since last May. It is not healthy for you."  
  
"I have my work," Albus said, stiffly, for the last time he had danced was with Poppy.  
  
"You have your work - You will ALWAYS have your work, Albus!" Nicholas clapped his shoulder, "Come on! You need a day of fun! I daresay you have shut out and ignored any invitation which my subject you to the torture of a good time."  
  
Albus looked at Nicholas from the corner of his eye and said, "All right. I will attend Lady Kalmond's ball."  
  
"Excellent!" Nicholas drowned his glass, "I will pick you up at eight. Now I have business so I must leave you - "  
  
"What business? It is almost time for dinner. Stay and dine with me."  
  
Nicholas turned, and shuffled around a bit, "I...I have pressing business."  
  
"Ah ah ah!" Albus turned on him and looked suspiciously at his friend, "What business?"  
  
"I am dining with Lord Holl, Mrs. Holl, and Miss Holl."  
  
"Miss Perenelle Holl?" Albus exclaimed, "That lovely Slytherin?"  
  
"Yes, she was a Slytherin."  
  
"She graduated three years before us, did she not?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was she not on holiday with you when you...You know," Albus leaned up against the cool pane of the window.  
  
"Yes, she was."  
  
"But there is an attachment?"  
  
"Yes," Nicholas barely uttered the word and turned a very deep shade of pink, "Now, excuse me, dear friend. I will see you at eight."  
  
  
The ball was, Albus could not deny, a great deal of fun. He was doted upon by everyone, and danced with many pretty girls, and made many new acquaintances. He was not, however, entirely distracted by the demands of his heart. Every head of dark curls, every wide smile, every pale face, everything that reminded him of Poppy caught his eye, yet it was never her. He spent much of his time craning over heads to see if it was, but it was always some other girl, sometimes an acquaintance of his, sometimes not. If it was not, he would quickly away, for he did not want to talk to anyone who reminded him of her.  
  
Eventually, Albus managed to slip away, towards one in the morning. He wandered down a deserted hallway, gazing at paintings, then out the door to the back lawn. Lady Kalmond's estate was a bit outside of town, so she had lawns, though not very large. There was a rather large pond, or a rather small lake, either one. Albus stood looking at it, and slowly, the voices and the music and the laughter in the house behind him seemed to die away...And he remembered....  
  
  
//Albus stood at the lake, gazing at the motionless black water. It was late, and he was not supposed to be out of his dormitory, yet he really did not care. Slowly, he reached inside his pocket, and, feeling the small, cold circle of metal, pulled it out and held it upon his palm. It shone brightly in the moonlight, a silver band, with a single, tiny, square-cut aquamarine gemstone on it.  
  
The sight of it caused a breakdown. His emotions overwhelmed him and, for once, he did not feel so superior. For once, his arrogance was not there. He was not so much more brilliant than everyone else, if he too could be felled by love. He, an eighteen-year-old boy, had made a stone that could make him endlessly rich, and he had the power to live forever. Yet what was all that worth, if he could not have her? She was his immortality, and he would have none of it, if he could not have her with him for the rest of eternity. What was the point of living until the end of time, if so far back he would only remember the love had once had, and then lost to a man driven only by jealousy? All of his months, all the weeks, the days, down to the seconds in which he could see the fire, the consistency, the unbreakable love in her gray eyes...All of the time he had loved her...To come down to this...  
  
Albus held the ring between his thumb and his index finger, moving it back and forth, watching it in the light. It dropped back into his palm, and he closed his fingers around it, taking a deep breath, as if to draw energy from it. Then, with a mighty swing of his powerful arm, he cast it into the depths of the lake...He saw the faintest of glimmers, heard the tiniest of splashes...And then silence. Silence all around him except for the unending tearing of his own heart. //  
  
  
"Albus!"   
  
Albus jumped and turned around. Nicholas was there, holding a glass of champagne.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You have been standing out here for near an hour. I think we had better go home."  
  
"Right," Albus nodded slowly.  
  
"Come on, take this," Nicholas handed him the glass as they walked through the house, "It will make you feel much better."  
  
"I really do not wish to get drunk, Nicholas," Albus took the glass anyways.  
  
"You already are quite drunk, Albus," Nicholas laughed.  
  
"Do you remember what happened the last time you got drunk?" Albus asked as they walked out the front door, "You took the Draught of Living Death."  
  
"Yes, but I am not that drunk, and neither are you, so drink it."  
  
The carriage door was opened for them and they stepped inside, where it was quite dark. Albus was just pulling open the curtain, but Nicholas reached over and stopped his hand.  
  
"I do not like the curtains to be open late at night," He said, "Sometimes...Well, it is just not safe."  
  
Albus looked suspiciously at Nicholas, but nodded, and put the glass to his lips. He tipped it back and drank it all down. Before he could wipe his lips or set the glass down, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed onto the seat, unconscious.  
  
"Driver!" Nicholas called, checking Albus' pulse and then arranging his limbs on the seat, "Diagon Alley please!" 


	17. Part 17

Authors Note : Um...Well...This is the last chapter of the story, originally. However, if you would like me write more (if you are unsatisfied with the ending), please do let me know. I enjoy writing, so...Yeah...Thanks! *hugs*  
  
Part 17  
  
"Albus! Albus! Wake up!"   
  
Consciousness slowly crept back into Albus' brain. His vision was a little blurry, but he knew it was Nicholas shaking him and whispering in his ear. He could see nothing beyond that, except that it was dark. Faintly, he heard the sound of voices, and of carriage wheels rattling over gravel.  
  
A very strong smell struck him, and Albus was wide awake. He was lying on the floor of a room of junk, covered in dust, and the curtains were closed. Nicholas left him and pushed them open, so that sunlight suddenly streamed in.  
  
"What are you doing?" Albus asked, "Where are we?"  
  
"Marshwood Manor now get up!"  
  
"Marshwood Manor? Who owns this place?" Albus stood up and looked out the window with Nicholas. There were all sorts of people running back and forth between the house they were in (which appeared very large) and the chapel just over the nearest knoll.  
  
"How did we get here?"   
  
"I took the liberty of giving you a drink of champagne with a sleeping draught in it," Nicholas replied hurriedly, "And brought you here. We are in southern England."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Marshwood Manor belongs to the Greens."  
  
"The Greens," Albus yawned, then jumped, "The GREENS!?! YOU BROUGHT ME TO THE GREENS' MANOR?!?!"  
  
"Shut up!" Nicholas whispered furiously, "They do not know that we are here!"  
  
"Why did you bring me here, Nicholas? Why now? What is going on?"  
  
"Oh you can not be that thick, Albus! Look out the window, what do you see?"  
  
Albus looked, "The wedding."  
  
"Yes! Very good!"  
  
Albus slammed his fist against the window. Several people down on the lawn looked up, but saw no one, for Nicholas had grabbed Albus by the back on his collar and dragged him down.  
  
"Why? Why? Is this your idea of a joke, Nicholas?" Albus moaned.  
  
"No, you idiot!"  
  
"Then WHY?"  
  
"Shhhh!!" Nicholas clapped his hand over Albus' mouth. There were voices coming up the stairs, foot steps...  
  
"Apparently," A woman's voice said, "He grew very angry when she refused to come to him the other night."  
  
"So he threw a bottle of wine against the wall?"  
  
"He always has had a temper, ever since he was a little boy, you will soon learn that."  
  
The voices passed by their door and disappeared.  
  
Albus pushed Nicholas' arm away, "Why are we here?"  
  
"Albus, I know how much you love Poppy," Nicholas said very seriously, "And the other   
night, at the ball-"  
  
"The other night? How long have we been here?"  
  
"Three days."  
  
"Three days?!?! Are you insane Nicholas?"  
  
"No, I am brilliant," Nicholas grinned, "Before I brought us here, I took the liberty of stopping by Gringott's."  
  
"To do what? Drain my account so that you get my parents' money as well as my hospitality?"  
  
"No, but I did borrow a few Galleons to pay for the inns and such, since I am doing this all   
for you, but that is not important. What I stopped by to get," Nicholas reached into a pocket inside his jacket, "Was this."  
  
He pulled out the Sorcerer's Stone.  
  
"Are you mad?" Albus almost yelled, but caught himself, "Do you know how dangerous it is to bring that out of Gringott's? What if someone gets a hold of it? What if you accidentally feed someone the Elixir of Life? Do you know what would happen? We would be arrested!"  
  
Albus suddenly paused, and then said slowly, "Nicholas, what are we doing here?"  
  
"I know how much you love Poppy," Nicholas said again, "And, obviously, there is no way   
to stop this marriage. It will happen in a few hours and Poppy Pomfrey will be Mrs. Green, mistress of Marshwood Manor."  
  
"Why do you insist on reminding me?"  
  
"Because Poppy Pomfrey will be Mrs. Green, mistress of Marshwood Manor - Until her   
husband dies."  
  
"We are not killing anyone, Nicholas!" Albus stood up and brushed his coat off.  
  
"Of course we are not killing anyone!" Nicholas stood as well, "Lawrence Green will live a long and decent life with his beautiful wife and they will have several children and so on so forth. But when he dies, his wife is free to go to whomever she pleases."  
  
Albus rolled his eyes, "What if she dies first, Nicholas? And even so, who says I am going to still be around? We can not choose how long we live, Nicholas. What if I walk out the door right now and get run over by a carriage?"  
  
Nicholas slapped Albus. He actually reached out his hand and slapped his best friend across the face. Albus turned his face, and then looked back at Nicholas, his hand to his cheek.  
  
"You bastard!" Albus whispered, "What the hell do you think-"  
  
"Are you stupid?!" Nicholas exclaimed, "Albus, what the hell are we famous for? We have the SORCERER'S STONE!"  
  
It took a moment for that to sink in. Albus peered at Nicholas, and at the red stone clutched in his hand. Then, he turned on his heel and made for the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" Nicholas asked in an exasperated voice.  
  
"I am not taking the Elixir of Life," Albus said, "I refuse. And I will not make Poppy take it either."  
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Because I do not want to live forever!" Albus turned on Nicholas, his face very red, "And what if the Stone is destroyed one day? Then I will die?"  
  
"Listen to what I have to say," Nicholas grabbed Albus by his arms and pulled him close, looking him straight in the eye, "I have found a spell. In my work, I stumbled across it. Now, if my research is correct - which it always is - then, if you take the Elixir of Life, and then I cast this spell on you, if you live for another thousand years or you live for ten, it does not matter. If the Stone is destroyed, you will not die because of it."  
  
Albus closed his eyes.  
  
The possibility that had just been presented to him was so powerful, so promising...And so dangerous. What if the spell did not work? Nicholas never had been wrong, but there was a first chance for everything. Albus had learned that lesson well enough. What if Nicholas accidentally killed him? What if he grew warts or sprouted fangs? What if the spell did not work at all, and if the Stone was destroyed, he would die?...Something stirred in Albus' stomach. He took a moment to recognize it, and then found it was a perfect indifference. His love for Poppy was strong enough that whatever the risks were, they were more than worth it.   
  
Albus opened his eyes again, and they were sparkling in that wonderful way that no one had seen since May.  
  
"We have a problem though," He said.  
  
"What?" Nicholas asked with a groan.  
  
"How do we convince Poppy?"  
  
  
Poppy gazed into the mirror, wondering at how lovely she looked and how that could not have contradicted the feelings within herself more. She wore a beautiful gown decorate with beads and silk roses, a circle of the same silk roses about her head, and falling from them a long veil. In her hand, she held a bouquet, and she looked very lovely indeed. The sunlight was blocked out of her windows by the curtains, and if anyone had entered the room, they would have thought her in mourning, so grim was the atmosphere. The only light was from the candles situated about the room.  
  
"Well," Poppy said to her reflection, "This is the day when all of your dreams die. But smile. You will soon be mistress of a beautiful estate and wife to a handsome, clever, intelligent, rich cad."  
  
And upon that statement, she burst into tears. They would have gone on for a very long time, but there was a knock upon the door.   
  
"Enter," She said.  
  
The servant that opened the door was a tall, blonde gentleman. She had not made the acquaintance of all the servants on the manor yet, and was eager to do so. Though she did not enjoy the prospect of being mistress to the manor, she had resolved to do all in her power to do it with a smile on her face, and to be well-loved by all her servants.  
  
This young man, who was wearing a black suit (this was curious to her, for the servants usually wore dark blue), had a tray with a glass of wine on it. He set it down before her, and turned to go.  
  
"Oh, no," Poppy said, "I can not drink this. Not before my wedding."  
  
"I would advise that you do," He said.  
  
Poppy turned to look upon him more clearly, for it was not usual for a servant to speak thus. What a start she had when she saw herself looking at Nicholas Flamel.  
  
"Nicholas!" She exclaimed.  
  
He pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed it at the door, and locked it.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She whispered, running to him, "Why are you here?"  
  
"I do not have much time," Nicholas replied, holding her. He quickly whispered his discovery into her ear.  
  
"Are you sure it will work?" She asked, eyes wide.  
  
"I have never been wrong," He replied, with an earnest smile, "And I would never dream of attempting anything so dangerous on my closest friend and the woman he loves unless I was absolutely positive that it would work."  
  
"Is he here?" Poppy asked, tears springing into her eyes.  
  
"Yes," Nicholas brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "He is here, well hidden. He refuses to take the potion until he is assured you have. You will have to write him a note."  
  
"Oh he is here!" Poppy fell into a chair, hand to her forehead, "To think he is here! The man I love, here, at my wedding day! He might get killed!"  
  
"Albus can take care of himself, he is not a fool, now drink that wine," Nicholas picked up the glass and handed it to her.  
  
Poppy looked at it carefully. She considered...And had the same doubts as Albus...And the same resolution. Love was worth the risk.  
  
"Hurry, Poppy!" Nicholas said, "Someone is coming!"  
  
Poppy turned her eyes up to Nicholas, pleading with him.  
  
"Poppy, do you love Albus?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then drink the potion! Now!"  
  
"Poppy, my dear?" A voice said on the other side of the door. A knock, "Poppy?"  
  
"Just a moment!" Poppy called, her voice strangled.  
  
She put the glass to her lips, and swallowed the wine.  
  
"Poppy!" The voice, now sharp.  
  
"Just a moment!" Poppy called again.  
  
Nicholas pointed his wand at her, "Retexo aeternitas!" He exclaimed.  
  
Poppy felt herself shudder, and then..."What about the note?"  
  
"When you get out of the carriage, after it pulls away, drop a flower from your bouquet."  
  
"Alohomora!" Was heard on the other side of the door.  
  
"Go!" Poppy urged.  
  
The door opened, and Poppy's mother stepped through.  
  
"Were you here alone, dearest?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, Mother, why?" Poppy set the glass down.  
  
"I swore I heard another voice."  
  
"I suppose it carried up from the lawn," Poppy smiled, "What is it?"  
  
"The carriage is ready for you."  
  
Mrs. Pomfrey did not notice, as she smiled at her daughter, that the windows in the room were not open, nor did she notice as her daughter loosened one of the flowers from her bouquet  
  
  
"Did she drink it?" Albus asked, when Nicholas appeared at his side, "Did she?"  
  
"Yes, but I did not have time to get a note," Nicholas replied, "You will have to just believe me. I told her that, when the carriage pulled away from after dropping her off at the church, she should drop a flower to ensure you that she had taken the potion."  
  
Albus ran to the window. The carriage was ambling along the path towards the chapel. He moved a bit to the left, and could just see the door. The carriage rounded the knoll, and stopped.   
  
"Oh there she is!" He sighed, watching as she stepped down, "She looks so beautiful...There! She just dropped a flower!"  
  
"Are you ready then?" Nicholas asked.  
  
Albus could not turn away from the window until she had disappeared inside the chapel, and when he did, Nicholas was holding another glass of wine. Albus took it up, and drank it slowly. It was the strangest feeling, as the potion entered his veins. He suddenly felt so young, so alive, so vital. Nicholas performed the spell on him.  
  
"Is that all?" Albus asked.  
  
"Yes, are you ready to leave?"   
  
"I fear I could stay here all my life and never grow tired of being locked up in an attic," Albus sighed, gazing out the window again, "But...Yes. We will see each other again one day, I know that much."  
  
  
No one noticed the carriage that turned away from the house, towards the main road.  
  
"Will you go to her as soon as he dies?" Nicholas asked, after an hour of silence.  
  
"No," Albus shook his head, "I think that we will see each other much sooner than that. Remember, she is to take over Madame Corlow's position. I always did want to teach Transfiguration."  
  
Nicholas nodded, "Perhaps you will then."  
  
"And now, at least, there is no need of hurrying," Albus looked straight into his friend's turquoise eyes, "We have forever. And there is so much I can do with my life at this point. I know she will always be true to me. Poppy does not turn her back because someone closes a door in her face. If they do, she will push it back open, even if it takes eternity. She will always be consistent."  
  
With that statement, the conversation ended. The two friends journeyed back to London, to return to their work, and to return the Stone to Gringott's, vault 713. 


	18. Epilogue

Note : All righty...Someone asked for an epilogue, and I wasn't going to do it because I was uninspired like you wouldn't beleive. But I saw the new movie last night, and at the end, during the end of the year feast, Madame Pomfrey is sitting next to Professor Dumbledore. And I thought about my story, and I thought, wow, that would be really awkward. So this idea came to me last night in the middle of a dream (it was very random, and I'm surprised I still remember it, because usually I don't), and I thought I ought to write them down. So here goes.  
  
Epilogue  
  
The years went slowly by for both of them. Albus lived as a bachelor, working for the Ministry, until Professor Hartwood retired, and Albus applied for the position. He got it, of course. Albus loved teaching. He loved cultivating the minds of eager young students. He picked out those who were particularly gifted in Transfiguration, and nurtured their talents.  
  
All together, Professor Dumbledore became everyone's favorite. He was patient and kind. He did not anger swiftly and give detentions. When he did reprimand a student, it was in such a subtle way that they usually did not even realize that it had happened, but it changed their character nonetheless. Students from all the houses considered him a mentor, and he recieved countless invitations to family events and dinners, banquets and balls of all types. He always declined.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was respected, and pitied. He was beloved for his kindness and his wisdom, but no one forgot his heartbreak. In 1799, Mrs. Lawrence Green gave birth to a lovely young boy that was named Timothy. She had four more children after that, and lived an apparently happy life with her loving husband and her darling children. Everyone thought them charming, and her wicked. How could she be so happy after what had happened? Did she have no heart?  
  
Poppy Green was surrounded by beautiful things. Sparkling chandeleirs, fine dressed, glittering jewels. Music was in her house at all times, whether it be one of her own children at the piano, or hired musicians for a ball, or the crystal music box on her dresser. If the sun was shining, all the curtains were pulled back and light filled every room. If it rained, fires blazed to life in the fireplaces and roast beef was prepared for dinner. Her children adored her. And she loved them more than the sunshine.  
  
It was not unusual to see her, sitting on the floor with her children, rumpling her dress, reading them a story. Or showing them how to cast a charm that made real butterflies sprout out of the end of their wands and flutter about, looking like jewels. She taught her daughters how to powder their noses (an interesting lesson that ended up with the mirrors completely powdered, and none at all on anyone's face) and dress their hair with ribbons and combs. She taught her sons how to properly greet women with a charming compliment, and how to keep their shoes from getting scuffed. She taught them all how to sing and dance. And these were all important lessons, for society expected much out of even the smallest children then. But more than anything else, Poppy Green taught her children to love the tiniest blossoms that sprang up in the lawn, and the ragged clouds that crossed the sky, and the yellow and red leaves that tumbled from the trees in the fall. She taught them to love books and art and music, and to look beyond what fashions a person was wearing, and what they did for a living.  
  
Professor Lawrence Green died in 1842. The youngest Green child, Rosalind, died in 1879. Poppy Green was 102 years old. But no one knew that. She still looked as though she were in her forties or so, though that was considered very old. Her youngest child died thinking that her mother was long dead in the family grave yard. Rosalind, like her four brothers and sisters, thought that her parents were buried, to be together forever in eternity.  
  
In 1854, Poppy Pomfrey applied for the job of nurse at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was immediately accepted.  
  
  
Albus sat in his office. He was very still, which was not unusual for him, for he was always deep in thought. But now he was not pondering theories or calculating equations in his head. There was only one thought in his brain.   
  
She is coming back.  
  
Now he trembled. It had been eight-four years since he had seen her. Eighty-four years since he had looked at her from that attic window. Eighty-four years. Such a long, long time. And now he was to work with her. Every day, they would see each other. At meals, in the corridors between classes. Suppose he was to fall, or accidentally get in the way of a student practicing DADA? He would be sent to the hospital wing, and she would care for him.  
  
Albus longed for the feel of her gentle, smooth, cool hands on his skin. The smile from under sincere gray eyes. He closed his eyes and he saw her, flickering shadows of freckles and curls. Automatically, his hand went to the ring he still wore on his finger. The lock of hair, still black by magic and love, rested in it. To tangle his hair in those dark curls and kiss her so passionately.  
  
Albus went to the mirror. He had aged, of course. His hair was still auburn, but a little gray about the ears. He wore it long, and swept back, tied with a dark blue ribbon at the nape of his neck. His face wore many wrinkles, but he still only looked about forty-five. His robes were dark blue, embroidered in silver. Albus pulled himself straight, shoulders back. What would he say to her, when he saw her again? Would he have a chance to speak to her?   
  
Did she still love him?  
  
That thought was torturous. Of course, he still loved her. He felt it in his heart, ripping at his soul. Of course he loved her. He did not decline invitations and spend all his spare time alone because it was his nature. He spent all his time alone because he was afraid to go out into society. To see their pitying looks. To watch the discuss him in quiet whispers at parties, or pay him kind courtesy because poor Professor Dumbledore suffered from a broken heart.  
  
But had she forgotten? Did she decide one day that it was all hopeless, and transfer her affections to Lawrence Green? Would she ignore him, treat him with polite courtesy, but only give frigid answers to his inquiries? The thought of her speaking to him in such a way, she who had wept for so long when she found they were to be separated, was preposterous. But after eighty-four years, Albus could not get his hopes up. He had done that once before, and they had been crushed the way a champagne glass is crushed when dropped onto a wooden floor. Time can change things, Albus thought, and I can do nothing about it.  
  
  
Albus sat at the teacher's table, waiting impatiently. She was to arrive soon, and to him it was nothing short of torture. His good friend, Armando Dippet, Professor of Muggle Studies, was on his right, and kept shooting him looks.  
  
"Albus, what has got you so jumpy?" He asked, "It is very unlike you."  
  
"Nothing," Albus replied, "Where is she?"  
  
"I would never be so rude as to imply this, but perhaps Professor Dumbledore is nervous?"  
  
"Do not be ridiculous, Binns," Albus shot back to the handsome young professor of History of Magic on his left.  
  
"Of course," Binns shrugged, "Why would you be? You have never even met the lady, have you?"  
  
"No," Albus replied, "Never. I have a lot of work to do this evening, and I want to get on with it."  
  
"So her coming means nothing to you?" Armando asked.  
  
"No...Where *is* she?"  
  
To answer his question, the Headmaster, Professor Juniper raised his hand and stood. The students stopped talking and fell silent.   
  
"I would like to introduce your new Head Nurse," Professor Juniper said, "Madame Pomfrey."  
  
They all stood and clapped. She entered from the back of the hall and walked forward, beaming. Albus felt his knees go weak. Her hair was dark gray, still curly, and pulled into a knot on the back of her head. She wore dark red robes, her best color. Poppy nodded politely, a pretty smile on her face. But no matter what she did, her eyes were focused on one point in the room. The sparkling sky-blue eyes that she had loved since she was eleven that were fixed, unmoving upon her face.  
  
Time can kill humans. Time rips from our grasp everything dear and precious to us. It fills us with disgust, hatred, power, weakness. It takes our homes and lets them crumble to the ground, to dissolve into dust. Time sinks its claws into our minds and drives us mad with its undeniable force. It can not be stopped, it can not be pushed back. There is no choice but to go with it. It can wear down mountains into praries. It can shift oceans. It can tears trees limb from limb. It can melt glaciers. It can cause stars to explode into a million fragments of burning light, and send planets spinning of their axis into oblivion. Time destroys everything.  
  
Time can not destroy love. 


End file.
